


I Love You, Ad Infinitum

by savingprivatesimmons (black_twosugars)



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Achievement Hunter Kings, Alternate Universe - Actors, Alternate Universe - Criminals, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Magic, Alternate Universe - Merpeople, Alternate Universe - Role Reversal, Alternate Universe - Scientists, Alternate Universe - Spies & Secret Agents, Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, Alternate Universe - X-Ray & Vav, Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, F/M, Fake AH Crew, Fluff, Hybrids, Immortal Fake AH Crew, Kings & Queens, M/M, Mild Sexual Content, Minor Injuries, Temporary Character Death
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-03
Updated: 2015-10-16
Packaged: 2018-04-18 20:44:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 25
Words: 24,965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4719830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/black_twosugars/pseuds/savingprivatesimmons
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of prompts filled from <a href="http://savingprivatesimmons.tumblr.com/post/125617849316/one-hundred-ways-to-say-i-love-you">this</a> list; each one is set in a different AU (unless requested otherwise).</p><p>(Pairings and AUs are listed in chapter titles)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. “Stay there. I’m coming to get you.” – Freewood – Kings AU

**Author's Note:**

> The tags are a mess, I'm sorry, I tried to order them but it ended up not making much sense. Anyway, writing so many different AUs has been so much fun and I'm not even done with all of them yet so look out for those and let me know if there was a specific AU you want to see more of!! <3

After mumbling a quick flame charm and waving his hand, Ryan winced at the sudden brightness in what had once been the pitch black of his chambers. The warmth of the harmless ball of flames dancing in the palm of his right hand was graciously welcomed. It served its purpose of slowly waking Ryan up well.

A glance out the window told him that it was still in the dead of the night. Why the mental link was still working was beyond him, but he hurriedly pulled on his clothes anyway. He and Gavin had gone exploring the previous day and had both taken one of Ryan’s potions to ensure that if they were separated they could easily communicate through thought. Usually it lasted about six hours – Ryan must have brewed this one a little stronger.

Either way, it didn’t matter. He had been awoken to a muffled plea for help echoing in his head; the only words Ryan had managed to decipher through the weakened link were “temple”, “zombies”, and “help.”

Panic had flooded Ryan’s entire body, almost drowning him with fear, but he was never one to cower in fear when confronted with danger. He was the Mad King; there were very few things he genuinely feared, but Gavin being under threat was certainly one of them.

“Stay there. I’m coming to get you.” Using a little bit of magic to boost the thoughts, Ryan hoped to hell that Gavin heard him. He couldn’t risk anything happening to the other King. He wrapped a black cloak around himself and pulled up the hood before leaving the safety of his own private quarters.

Barely minutes had passed between Ryan waking up and Ryan extinguishing the flame charm and casting a silencing spell on himself as he slipped past the guards and stable boy. He’d already grabbed his staff by the time he opened the door to his own horse’s stable.

Edgar gave a soft whinny as Ryan approached him. “Shh, we’ve gotta go get Gavin, alright?” Ryan soothed, deftly repeating the memorised actions in order to prepare Edgar for riding.

Ryan rode like his life depended on it. In a way, it kind of did. Gavin was practically the other side to his coin. They couldn’t have been more opposite rulers – Ryan favouring methods he’d call ‘effective’ (others would call them ‘malicious’, ‘mad’ and ‘the work of the devil himself.’) whilst Gavin was more like a friend to the people of his kingdom than the ruler he really was. But that didn’t stop the irresistible draw they both felt towards the other.

The chilling wind whipped past Ryan as he pushed forwards towards where he knew Gavin would be. His heart pounded in his chest, his cloak billowed, and when the trees above his head obscured his view he held out his staff and cast an ethereal crimson glow ahead of himself. The mere presence of the hazy red light set alight a softly flickering fire within Ryan’s chest. His magic always brought him confidence and a sense of comfort.

Ryan pulled on the reigns with one hand to slow Edgar as he approached the ancient stone temple. He could faintly hear the sounds of snarling zombies in the distance so he slid off his horse, tied the reigns to a nearby tree and sprinted in the direction of the sounds.

“Gavin?” He called out – the potion had long since worn off so he had to rely on the old fashioned way of finding Gavin. When there was no reply Ryan pushed more of his power into the staff, lighting up more of his surroundings in the red glow.

Upon noticing a straggling zombie (the creature was missing half of one leg) Ryan silently crept towards it and waited for a moment. Only when he saw the direction in which it was heading did Ryan ramp up the brightness of his staff and watch as the zombie all but dissolved into ash.

They were creatures of the night – they spawned in darkness and encountering anything brighter than a man-made torch would leave it ceasing to exist. Endermen and Creepers were the ones that brought more danger; zombies were more like pests than anything else, but in hoards their effects could be devastating.

Ryan’s heart dropped when he saw the crowd of half-mangled creatures clawing their way through each other in order to reach the wall of the temple.

“Ryan?” A shaky voice called out – only then did Ryan glance up. He smirked when he saw Gavin perched comfortably on a ledge about ten feet above the zombies, occasionally shooting any that managed to climb the wall with arrows.

Ryan breathed a sigh of relief when he saw that Gavin was unharmed. There were no traces of oddly bent limbs or purple bruises on his skin or crimson blood tainting the green outfit or creeper-skin cloak. He was safe.

“Close your eyes,” Ryan warned, waiting a moment for Gavin to comply before holding out his staff and forcing even more magic into the redstone gem embedded in the top of it. He also closed his eyes for a couple of seconds, only opening them once more when the sounds of zombies vanishing into smoke and ash ceased and he had lowered the brightness down to its original small glow.

“C’mon, you’re coming home with me.” Ryan declared, smirking up at Gavin who smiled sheepishly back.

“Thanks, Ry.” He muttered, shifting to sit down with his legs dangling over the edge of the ledge. But then a thought appeared to strike him. “Wait, won’t my kingdom think I’ve been kidnapped?”

“Nah,” Ryan answered, “we’ve spent enough time at each other’s kingdoms that I’m sure they’ll understand.”

Gavin thought about it for a few moments before shrugging and nodding. “Yeah, that’s true.” However, instead of actually hopping down, Gavin remained on his ledge.

Only after laughing at the fact that _of course_ Gavin managed to hide in a place he couldn’t get down from did Ryan recite a spell and point his staff just below Gavin’s dangling feet. A luminescent red disc faded into existence and Gavin readily hopped on – it wasn’t the first time Ryan had used those glyphs, they were practically his signature spell. He’d use it to get a height advantage over enemies as well as being able to observe a battle, no matter how bloody – and stood still as he was lowered to the ground.

When his feet touched the soft grass, he immediately ran forwards to wrap his arms around Ryan’s neck and pull him into a long-needed hug.

“Thanks for saving me,” he whispered, his somewhat shaky voice betraying how affected he was by the whole ordeal.

“Hey, it’s okay, you’re safe now,” Ryan replied, nudging Gavin’s head with his thumb so he could softly kiss him. Gavin all but melted into the contact, relishing in the presence of his lover for a few minutes as they stayed like that, the soft red glow illuminating their surroundings. For anyone who dared to challenge King Ryan, the red light would be a warning of imminent danger (and, more often, death), but to the two of them it was a beacon of reassurance. It was a reminder to Gavin that Ryan was safe, and a reminder to Ryan that he could still see Gavin.

Ryan continued to keep the staff alight as he rode back to his own kingdom, comforted by the way Gavin’s arms were wrapped tightly around his waist, pressing their bodies even closer together. Even after arriving back at the castle and tugging off his chainmail and other robes Ryan made sure to prop the staff up by the fireplace across the room from the four-poster bed, thus casting a soft red haze across his quarters as they both climbed into bed.

“Good night, Ry,” Gavin mumbled as he threw an arm over Ryan’s body and leaned his head on his bare chest.

“G’night, Gav,” Ryan replied, wrapping one arm around his lover’s body, the other resting in his dishevelled mess of hair and slowly tracing patterns into his scalp. They ranged from symbols of his favourite spells to the most intricate of glyphs, but he smiled down at Gavin when he began softly snoring.

Sleep pulled Ryan in a lot quicker this time around; he had the warm, furnace-like body of Gavin wrapped around his own to thank for that.


	2. “It reminded me of you.” – Freewood – Fake AH Crew

At the time it had seemed like a good idea – a  _fantastic_ one, even – but now it just seemed silly. Ryan was probably going to sigh and shake his head, a disappointed roll of the eyes hidden behind his mask. Michael and Geoff would cackle with laughter, Jack would think him an idiot, Ray would take a photo to document the immensely ridiculous occasion, and Lindsay would make sure he never forgot it.

Despite all of that, Gavin still proceeded to approach the masked mercenary, his surprise hidden inside a paper bag.

He’d always been rather eager to please Ryan. Whether it was by showing off his hacking abilities or by driving the getaway car as fast as possible whilst still effortlessly controlling it, he never missed an opportunity to make Ryan laugh. Hopefully this would be the same, but honestly he had no idea. Nerves had built up inside his chest and he was jittery as he bounced into the main room in the Fake AH Crew’s primary base.

He breathed a sigh of relief when he found the living room unoccupied.

“Hey, Ryan!” Gavin chirped, striding across the room to stand in front of the Vagabond himself who was sat on the couch cleaning a pistol. The pieces of the unassembled gun on the left side of the table were grimy and scratched and had a few flecks of blood on them whereas the pieces on the right side were gleaming as light reflected from the shiny surface.

“Good morning, Gavin.” Ryan replied without looking up from his work. When Gavin remained in his spot, standing just to the side of Ryan, Ryan finally glanced up. He eyed the paper bag suspiciously. “What’s in the bag?”

The nerves that had somewhat dissipated when Gavin found the room empty (save for Ryan) returned full-blast. “It’s uh, I got you something.” He stuttered out nervously.

Ryan took the proffered bag and _oh god, Gavin had not anticipated this_.

With his free hand Ryan lifted the intimidating and untainted black skull mask from his face and set it down on the table. He must have sensed Gavin’s surprise because he glanced up and smirked, but didn’t comment on Gavin’s reaction. He returned his attention to the paper bag and carefully removed the object hidden inside.

Ryan giggled the second he saw the small, black skeleton soft toy. It was decorated with white bones along its limbs and even had a small red heart embroidered into the centre of its chest. Gavin had been scrolling endlessly through random online shopping pages when he had seen it; it instantly reminded him of the black skull mask Ryan was almost never seen without and Gavin had bought it without a second thought.

“It reminded me of you.” Gavin confessed, cheeks red and eyes not meeting Ryan’s in fear of, well, literally anything. He had witnessed first-hand the devastation the man in front of him could wreak.

“Aww, it’s adorable,” Ryan cooed, and _oh damn, his smile was so bright that it could have illuminated a thousand cities_. “Thank you, Gavin.”

“No problem.” Gavin tried to hide the broad grin that worked its way onto his face but failed miserably. And okay, he may have also been blushing but it absolutely wasn’t because despite seeing Ryan on almost a daily basis, this was the first time he had seen him without the mask and he absolutely wasn’t cute at all. Nope. Gavin wasn’t even going to let himself think about it.

“Wait, it needs a name.” Ryan said, staring intently at the small, hand-sized skeleton for a few moments before confidently declaring, “Skelly.”

Gavin couldn’t help but laugh at Ryan’s choice of name. The most terrifying and intimidating man in all of Los Santos – who would kill someone without a second thought – had just named a small skeleton plushie Skelly. Nope, that wasn’t cute at all.

“Skelly the Skeleton,” Gavin said with a smile, “perfect.”

“Yeah, he’s cute but also spooky.” Ryan concluded, sitting Skelly on top of his mask on the table.

“Just like you, then.” As soon as the words fell from Gavin’s mouth he wanted to punch himself in the face. But then Ryan was glancing up at him and smiling – not smirking, genuinely _smiling_ – and _oh_ , maybe things made a lot more sense now. Maybe Gavin finally understood why Ryan had always shaken his head and chuckled whenever he tripped over his own words (or, more often than not, his own feet), and maybe it was finally clear as to why Ryan was more lenient when it came to him.

And maybe, just maybe, Gavin felt the same.


	3. “We’ll figure it out.” – Ryack - Robotic Engineers AU

Ryan ran his hands through his hair for the thousandth time that night and groaned, snatching up a spanner and unscrewing the bolts he’d just fixed onto the robot. His test hadn’t worked and he had to disassemble everything he’d built that night. Again.

He had long passed the point of frustration and was barely a few failures away from punching something. The small robot _just wasn’t working_ and he had no idea why. A glance at the LED clock on his workbench told him that it was 3:12am. He’d stayed this late, he may as well continue.

As he racked his brain for another angle to take on his project, he huffed in irritation at himself when he found that he was struggling to think straight. Oh well, hopefully winging it would work too. Maybe. Probably not. Ah well, at least another failure would be better than not trying at all.

He rebuilt the shell of the spherical robot from muscle memory before layering and plugging in wires in what he assumed was a different order. It had all been going great until he tried soldering in one of the wires that was supposed to link the microchip to the power unit inside the robot. Red hot sparks of electricity shot out from where the wire had touched the power unit. Ryan leapt backwards, stumbling into his chair and cursing loudly as he fell to the floor.

“Shit,” he clamped his hand down over the back of his left hand where a harsh red burn mark had already formed. It stung painfully but he forced himself not to let on to how badly it hurt, despite the lab being completely empty. The only ‘life’ Ryan had seen since about midnight was Joe; the ginger and white animatronic cat occasionally wound his way around Ryan’s legs before slinking back out again to wander the halls.

Now, however, Ryan didn’t even have the robotic cat for company as he hissed on an intake of breath and crossed his legs in front of him, curling in on himself as much as he could. The tiled floor was cold and uncomfortable but Ryan was too exhausted and in pain to even consider moving.

Ryan’s heart skipped a beat and he cautiously held his breath when he heard the door click open. He had known that there were other people in the building – Miles and the rest of the engineers and scientists working on the RWBY Project practically never left at all – but he couldn’t think of any reason as to why anyone would enter his room. Lindsay and Michael had left early for a dinner date, Gavin and Geoff had headed off to the nearest bar, Matt and Jeremy were assisting Joel and Adam with another inane project, and he was pretty sure everyone else had gone home already.

Whoever it was, Ryan wanted them to leave so he could wallow in pain and disappointment for a little while longer before continuing in his night of failures.

But then Jack walked around the corner of a bench and Ryan breathed a sigh of relief. Jack was the exception to his rule; he watched as Jack smiled sympathetically before holding out his hand to pull Ryan to his feet. It was a bit of a struggle to only use one hand – he wasn’t willing to risk injuring his other hand even more – but once he was stood up, he smiled gratefully at his boyfriend.

“Damn, what happened, Ryan?” Jack asked, glancing from the mess on the bench in front of them to the chair on the floor and Ryan’s dishevelled appearance. If he looked as bad as he felt, things were bad.

“It doesn’t work.” Ryan meekly muttered, his breath hitching uncomfortably and his heart hammering in his chest and it felt like a dam had burst because _it should have worked, dammit, why didn’t it work?!_ “I can’t… it won’t… I don’t _know_.” He could have kicked himself for sounding so pathetic, but it didn’t stop him from leaning into Jack when warm arms were wrapped around his shoulders and pulling him close. Reassuring circles were being rubbed into his back and Ryan rested his head on Jack’s shoulder.

“I just don’t know what to do,” Ryan confessed in a strained voice, although he was a lot more relaxed ever since Jack had pulled him into his arms. There was always something comforting and reassuring about being held by his lover.

“We’ll figure it out.” Jack reassured, lifting Ryan’s head from his shoulder so he could press a gentle kiss to Ryan’s lips. Many of his worries and concerns dissolved with the soft contact – Jack slowly ran his hands through Ryan’s hair and down his back to wrap around his waist and pull him closer. “Let’s go home.” Ryan opened his mouth to object but was immediately cut off by another quick kiss. “We can come back tomorrow and we’ll work on it together, alright?”

“Alright,” Ryan replied, a tired smile on his face as he nodded. He raised a hand to adjust his glasses but was stopped when Jack gently took hold of his wrist.

“What happened to your hand?” He asked, concern lacing his tone as he observed the small burn.

“Robot shorted out and a spark burned me.” Ryan said and Jack sighed before pulling Ryan over to the sink. He winced as cool water washed over the burn but let Jack silently clean the wound before pulling out the first aid kit from the red cupboard on the wall. After wrapping a few layers of bandages around the wound – mostly so Ryan wouldn’t accidentally knock it but also to prevent infection – Jack pressed a soft kiss to the top of the white bandages.

Then he slipped his hand into Ryan’s uninjured one and squeezed it lightly before leading him out of the lab. Whatever Ryan was working on could wait until the morning. For now, Jack was going to take Ryan home and ensure he got at least a couple of hours sleep. Burnie wouldn’t mind if they both took the morning off since Jack could easily claim that they were ill; besides, there was no way that he could possibly know if they spent their time off curled up in bed together, exchanging soft kisses and loving conversation. 


	4. “I like your laugh.” – Freeramwood - RT Office

The first time Geoff had noticed it they were in the middle of a Let’s Play. He had just finished wiping away a few stray tears after almost dying with laughter at some incredible way Ryan had managed to screw Gavin over in Minecraft. When he finished, he noticed that both Ryan and Gavin were grinning broadly and sneaking glances over at Geoff.

The second time Geoff had noticed it Jon had just thrown a freshly printed t-shirt at Ryan’s face which resulted in Ryan pulling it off, taking one look at the design (which mocked one of his latest flubs with sparkles and rainbows and bubbly font) and giving Jon the dirtiest, most irate snarl he could muster. If Geoff wasn’t so busy laughing his head off, he probably would have been just as scared as Jon.

Once again, when he had finished laughing and Jon had escaped the room unscathed, Gavin had sauntered over to kiss him on his cheek before

The third time Geoff had noticed it they had just been told off by a rather flustered waitress who had received a couple of complaints about how loud the three had been. Geoff had taken them out to one of his favourite Italian restaurants and since it was more of a high-end place, the three of them had dressed up for the occasion. Ryan was wearing a dark maroon button-down shirt (and if Geoff was completely honest, he really couldn’t stop staring at how perfectly fitted the shirt was); Gavin had rolled up the sleeves of his pale blue button-down shirt (and he’d unbuttoned the top two buttons and _damn_ , he had just exposed the one place Geoff liked to nip at to elicit those beautiful moans from the Brit); and Geoff himself had chosen to wear one of his favourite plaid shirts.

Everything had gone smoothly so far. Gavin had actually accepted the glass of red wine offered to him, Ryan hadn’t messed up his words as he ordered, and Geoff had refrained from touching his boyfriends under the table.

But then their food came and Gavin hadn’t even given it a second thought before sucking up the spaghetti on his plate instead of eating them carefully. Geoff had taken one look at Gavin with spaghetti dangling from his mouth and burst out laughing. Ryan joined him barely moments afterwards and Gavin had been completely confused.

Only after Ryan had explained to Gavin that he had been given a knife for a reason (and the waitress asked them politely to quieten down) did Geoff somehow manage to stop cackling with laughter. And, as expected, when he looked up he was faced with Ryan and Gavin smiling at him with identical affectionate smiles.

This continued for quite some time; Geoff would laugh, Ryan and Gavin would give him a strange look, Geoff wouldn’t comment on it despite not understanding the surge of affection he could feel radiating from his boyfriends.

The three were curled up in Geoff’s bed, Gavin and Ryan on either side of him as Gavin continued to pester Ryan with the most random and inane hypotheticals he could conjure up. Ryan continued to counter every one of Gavin’s silly questions and theories with as many scientific facts his sleep-deprived brain could muster. And Geoff continued to chuckle and giggle as they argued about the dumbest of things.

Geoff was laying on his back, eyes closed as he listened to the arguments, but when there was a distinct lack of conversation, he opened them only to be faced with both Ryan and Gavin smiling fondly down at him.

“Alright, why the fuck do you two stare at me whenever I laugh?” He asked, smirking at the way Ryan and Gavin both wore matching expressions of ‘oh crap, we’ve been caught.’

“I like your laugh,” Ryan confessed after a couple of moments of silence, curling up closer to Geoff and kissing him softly.

“Yeah, whenever I hear you laugh it’s like, I dunno, everything suddenly gets better.” Gavin added, following Ryan’s lead and nuzzling his face into the crook of Geoff’s shoulder. The scruff on his cheeks tickled Geoff’s neck ever so slightly and he fought back a giggle.

“Seriously?” Geoff asked incredulously, completely unconvinced. There was no way his laugh was what left those dorky smiles on his boyfriends’ faces.

“Yeah!” Ryan and Gavin chorused. Geoff shook his head in disbelief and was about to say so but when he opened his mouth the only sound that came out was that of laughter as Gavin rubbed his face against Geoff’s neck, eliciting giggles from him. Meanwhile, Ryan seemed to catch on and he joined Gavin in tickling him, hands deftly skating along the inked skin of Geoff’s sides.

“Your laugh is literally the best sound on the planet.” Gavin confidently declared, and Geoff shuddered when he felt Gavin’s lips moving against the sensitive skin of his neck.

“Seconded,” Ryan said before claiming Geoff’s lips in a loving kiss, hands ceasing their tickling. Instead he curled one around Geoff’s waist, fingers resting barely a few centimetres above the waistband of Geoff’s boxers, and he raised the other to curl in Geoff’s hair as he deepened the kiss. Gavin left a few soft kisses along Geoff’s jaw which prompted Geoff to chuckle lowly against Ryan’s lips; Ryan ate it up, pulling himself as close as he possibly could and when he broke the kiss for air, he smiled down at the beautiful sight of Geoff before turning his head to give Gavin a warm kiss.

“God, I love you two so much,” Geoff whispered into the darkness of the room, the warm buzz in the centre of his chest heating up even more as Gavin hummed in agreement and as Ryan settled next to him, kissing his shoulder in what Geoff knew was also agreement. Words rarely needed to be used when it came to them because as they slowly fell asleep, Geoff _knew_ that he could easily drown in the love they shared. 


	5. “I was in the neighbourhood.” – Freewood – Superpower AU

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so this has probably got to be my favourite one of the lot. I just really love this AU and I really want to flesh it out more because I have so many ideas and there are so many places this could go ^.^

Gavin rubbed his eyes as the harsh light from the fridge hit his face and he quickly shut it once he had grabbed the carton of milk. He poured a few drops of it into the mug of cold tea he’d made and replaced it. Then he picked up the mug and sighed as it quickly heated to a temperature which would have been scalding for anyone that wasn’t Gavin.  However, he brushed off his melancholy before heading back to his living room and throwing his feet up onto the couch.

As he flicked absently through the channels on TV, barely paying any attention, he let himself reflect on what an abysmal day he’d had. And honestly? It was his fault. Geoff and his “it’s okay, everyone fucks up” speech could go fuck themselves. Geoff’s fuck-ups didn’t have the potential to be lethal if he lost too much control.

The only issues they’d had with Geoff’s telekinetic abilities were the occasional incidents in which he would accidentally drop something on someone. Even then it was usually something that could be dodged or broken or avoided. Besides, Kdin had quick reaction times; he could easily zap things that came too close to hitting their team.

Gavin, however, was just a danger. He was only good for attacking and wreaking havoc. The flames that licked his skin felt warm and comforting to him; he felt at home in the heat that could easily disintegrate anything in his path. He could only destroy. And today he had come too close to doing just that.

In his defence, Michael had conjured the wind a few moments _after_ Gavin had ignited the flames along his arms that fanned out down his back and along the floor. Michael was just lucky Ryan had been there to freeze the floor and construct a wall of ice between him and the billowing flames.

If Ryan hadn’t been there Michael could have died. They had all witnessed the effects Gavin’s pyrokinesis could have, which was exactly why Jack had instantly shut down the training room and pulled the lever to set off the sprinklers within the room. Gavin had left the room not only hating himself for being so careless but also grumpy and frustrated from being doused with water.

Honestly, he was also ashamed that he’d made an idiot of himself in front of Ryan. They were quite literally polar opposites – Ryan having ice powers and Gavin controlling fire respectively – and they frequently stuck together on the battlefield. It was handy for both of them to be able to cancel (or help) each other out in times of need. But it was more often than not Gavin who needed Ryan to extinguish his flames and cool him down.

This wasn’t the first time something like this had happened. The amount of times he had accidentally burned his teammates was getting out of hand. Today wasn’t the first time he was considering leaving, but today was the first time he was close to actually doing it.

One text. That’s all it would take to tell Geoff he couldn’t risk returning to the team.

He pulled out his phone and typed out a message, re-writing it at least six times before he was happy with what he had. He could just click send and that would be it; he’d never have to worry about hurting his friends ever again.

Instead of clicking send, he set his phone down and took a long drink from his coffee. The sun may have set long ago but there was no way he was sleeping anyway so it wasn’t as if the caffeine was going to make much of a difference. He didn’t want to risk sleeping for fear of nightmares showing him exactly what could happen if his fire _did_ get out of control.

The first time he heard it Gavin thought he was imagining things, but then a fist was knocking on his door a little louder this time and Gavin set his coffee down on a coaster before standing up.

He furrowed his brow in confusion when he opened the door and was left stood face-to-face with the one reason Michael was still alive. “Ryan? What’re you doing here?”

Ryan ran his hand through his hair, a few ice crystals keeping it in place as he smiled at Gavin. “I was in the neighbourhood.”

“You live on the opposite side of the city to me.” Gavin had no idea why the hell Ryan was here. Unless he was here to gloat, it made no sense.

“Eh, whatever.” Ryan shrugged. “Can I come in?”

“Sure,” Gavin replied, stepping aside to let Ryan into his house. “Do you want a drink?” Gavin asked as he followed Ryan into his own living room, watching as he sat down on the couch.

“Something cold would be great,” he said, smiling up at Gavin as if absolutely nothing was wrong. Gavin tried not to overthink anything as he poured a can of Diet Coke into a glass for Ryan, but he didn’t bother with ice – if it wasn’t cold enough then Ryan could easily fix that. “Thanks,” Ryan took the drink graciously and Gavin watched in awe as he touched the tip of his finger to the top of the drink, two small ice cubes forming within seconds.

Honestly, Gavin had always been awed by how purely beautiful Ryan’s ability was.

“Okay, fine,” Ryan blurted out after taking a swig from the drink, “I’m not here because I was in the neighbourhood.”

“Knew it.” Gavin said with a smirk, but it was more of a disappointed one than anything else. He had kind of been hoping for a more innocent reason to Ryan’s visit; he wasn’t looking forward to being yelled at again. Michael had done enough of that for the day.

“I’m here because I know today was far from great for you and, well… I’m worried about you.” Ryan confessed seriously, setting his drink down on the coffee table and turning to face Gavin. “What Michael said clearly hurt you and I need you to know that it’s okay.”

“But it isn’t! It’s not okay!” Gavin snapped irately at Ryan. “I almost _killed_ Michael, he almost _died_. He would have burnt to ashes within seconds; you can’t tell me that it’s okay because it’s _not_ , Ryan… I’m too dangerous.”

“So am I.” Ryan stated, and Gavin’s eyes shot up to catch Ryan’s gaze in confusion.

“What? No you’re not.” Gavin scoffed in disbelief. Ryan’s ice powers were absolutely beautiful; he could construct thick walls of ice to protect people, he could create the most captivating of patterns along any given surface, and he had even made it snow before. There was nothing dangerous about Ryan.

“I am. Gavin, I could freeze a human body just as quickly as you could burn one. Fire is a little more flimsy than ice so nobody blames you for sometimes struggling to control all of it, but I’ll always be here to help you.” Ryan’s soothing words were reassuring and Gavin felt his chest heat up with the knowledge, but then again, that could’ve just been his pyrokinesis.

After tearing his gaze away from Ryan’s and staring at his lap, Gavin flinched away when Ryan reached a hand out to touch Gavin’s.

“Don’t touch me, I don’t want to hurt you.” Gavin said with a sad sigh, shoulders deflating as he glanced up at Ryan. Someone without powers would shake in fear, Gavin could only heat up. Honestly, he was lucky he wasn’t throwing flames all over the place. It wouldn’t be the first time that had happened. “Seriously, Ryan, I’m too hot.”

“Hot damn,” Ryan replied with a smirk, “call the police and the fireman.” He stopped when Gavin rolled his eyes and the hint of a smile played at the corner of his lips. “But seriously, you won’t hurt me. Don’t believe me? Just watch.” He finished with a grin before placing his hand over Gavin’s.

The first thing Gavin noticed was the hiss of steam that fizzled up into the air from where their skin touched, but the second thing he noticed was the most important of them all. Ryan wasn’t tearing his hand away with burns covering his hand. In fact, he was wriggling his hand to hold onto Gavin’s in a more practical way, smiling up at him with a wide grin.

“Told you so,” he declared triumphantly.

And _oh_ , there’s the third and final thing Gavin is now noticing; he was holding Ryan’s hand. He was sat on his couch, Ryan’s hand in his own after Ryan had given him a small speech of sorts about why he wasn’t alone. His skin felt like it was on fire (and it very well could have been), but not in the fearful and anxious way he had felt earlier. Now his cheeks were red due to the intimacy of the small act of kindness because damn, Ryan was literally his other half and how was he only just noticing it?

“I- sorry,” Gavin muttered as he stared at the floor and tried to pull his hand away from Ryan – he couldn’t risk him realising that Gavin had just had an epiphany – but was stopped when Ryan held on tighter.

“Gavin, it’s okay,” he soothed, using his other hand to tentatively touch Gavin’s jaw and tilt his head so he could catch his gaze. Despite wanting to do nothing other than pull away from Ryan and walk away, Gavin couldn’t help but stay.

“But-”

“I know.” Ryan declared, and the weight carried with his words sunk in. “Would I really be here if I didn’t care about you?” It really hit Gavin hard when he understood what way Ryan cared about him in, but he shook his head in an ‘I guess not’ gesture.

“Exactly,” Ryan said with a smirk before leaning in and Gavin met him half-way in a kiss which was nothing short of electric. Gavin breathed in sharply when he felt that familiar sizzle of steam the instant his warm lips touched Ryan’s cold ones; the sensation was addictive and Gavin had a brief thought that this was destiny.

When they broke the kiss, Gavin giggled when he realised that he could physically see their breath mingling between their faces.

Ryan simply laughed and kissed Gavin again, and Gavin relaxed into the touch because he may be lethal, but he always had Ryan to balance him out again.


	6. “Pull over. Let me drive for a while.” – Jones² – Zombie Apocalypse AU

The orange haze of the slowly setting sun illuminated the desolate horizon. There were abandoned cars along the road and there wasn’t a single person to be seen. Honestly, Michael was grateful for that simply because even though it meant they were alone, it also meant that there were no Infected anywhere near them.

Despite being the only car on the road for miles and miles, at least they were safe. Michael had a shotgun stashed underneath his seat and Lindsay had a pistol in the pocket on her door.

Her gaze was fixed on the horizon but she yawned for the third time in a minute; she had been driving for at least seven hours now and they still weren’t even half-way to New Orleans. The city had been barricaded at the very first rumour of infection (which originated in Florida) so every piece of media in the south had advertised it as the safe haven they needed.

Before their phones had lost signal they had called Geoff who had informed them that yes, everyone else had safely boarded the evacuation vehicles that had arrived in central Austin. Michael and Lindsay hadn’t been as lucky as them; they had been out of town the day the infection broke out so therefore didn’t have the chance to board any escape vehicles.

However, instead of wallowing in fear of imminent death, they had loaded as much gas into Michael’s car as it could carry before buying as many gas cans as they could fit in the trunk and driving off in the direction of New Orleans.

They hadn’t stopped driving since, and the toll of the extensive driving was beginning to take a toll on Lindsay.

“Hey, pull over. Let me drive for a while.” He said, resting a hand on her thigh in a comforting gesture.

“Thanks, Michael,” she replied, gratefully slowing the car to a stop. But she didn’t get out of the car until she had leaned over the gearshift to give Michael a quick kiss.

Once they had swapped sides, Lindsay sighed with relief and smiled lovingly at her husband. “We’re gonna make it,” she stated, confidence lacing her tone rather than the way the words had been whispered as a terrified question earlier that day.

“Yeah, we’re gonna make it,” Michael replied, smiling as she shrugged off her jacket to bundle it up and lean on it against the window. Barely minutes passed after her closing her eyes before she was fast asleep and Michael couldn’t help but admire her. The intense oranges and yellows of the sunset were quickly darkening into a crimson and orange glow which perfectly matched the ombre of Lindsay’s hair.

Determination (and at least four Red Bulls) fuelled Michael as he eased his foot down on the accelerator even more, officially uncaring about speed limits. They were on a straight road and Michael was a stellar driver, thank you very much. Besides, he wanted nothing more in the world than to get Lindsay and himself to safety and to be surrounded by their friends and family again.

This devastation of an infection had barely taken a few hours to wreak enough havoc to strike panic into the population; Michael just wanted to reach the safe confinements of New Orleans’s walls.

But for now, Michael allowed himself to enjoy the picturesque view (of his lightly sleeping wife and of the beautiful sunset) and the comfort of driving as he neared his destination with every turn of the wheels.


	7. “Take my jacket. It’s cold outside.” – Jones² – Bonnie & Clyde AU

Lindsay grinned wickedly, the thrill of firing off her shotgun into the bank teller’s head sending a jolt of electricity shooting down her spine. She winked at the security camera, finding satisfaction in the fact that she _knew_ her face would be all over the news tomorrow. Her crimson red lipstick and black eyeliner were perfectly on-point; she _deserved_ to have the whole country know her face.

“Having fun there, dear?” Michael asked, kissing her cheek as he walked past her to the safe which had already been opened by the manager of the bank.

“Fuck yes,” she replied with a smirk as Michael loaded bundles of $100 notes into the duffel bag. She whipped around, short black-and-white striped skirt billowing slightly as she turned to face the sobbing suited man on the floor who had tried to move. “Going somewhere?”

He barely had a chance to sob out the word ‘no’ before Lindsay was pulling the trigger on her shotgun once more, watching in fascination as blood splattered all over the once-white tiles. The red of the blood matched her shade of lipstick perfectly – she had chosen it just for this occasion.

“The rest of you are smart, right?” She asked rhetorically, satisfied with the frantic nods of horrified fear she was given by the people knelt on the floor and the bank tellers quaking in terror in their booths. “Good, then stay put.” She snapped, fire in her eyes as she glared down at them.

“Babe,” Michael said, dropping the duffel bag to the floor in front of her before pulling off his brown leather jacket. “Take my jacket. It’s cold outside.”

“Awh, thank you, darling,” she replied, leaning in for a quick but firm kiss before accepting the jacket and smiling with the familiarity of the comfort it brought. Michael was practically never seen without the brown leather jacket, the wolf embroidered into the back of it was almost iconic among citizens of their city. They knew that if they saw that logo, the curly-haired and freckle-covered man who wore it, and the bombshell lady with fire in her eyes and hair, they needed to run.

After Michael hauled the duffel bag over his shoulder, Lindsay lead the way out of the bank, the sounds of her heels clicking on the floor a delightful soundtrack to accompany the sirens of the bank’s alarm system as they walked away and climbed into their car. Then they drove away, completely unscathed and high on adrenalin of getting away with yet another spectacular heist.


	8. “Can I hold your hand?” – Jones²  – High School AU

The sun had set long ago and as Michael glances up at the sky all he can see is the occasional break in the canopy of the trees which obscures the hazy glow of the moonlight. Usually they wouldn’t be walking home in the dark but rehearsals for the production the theatre department was planning had run late and as the lead female, Lindsay also had to stay late.

Their usual shortcut through the forest separating the high school from the housing district in which both Michael and Lindsay lived was great; in summer they would skim stones on the nearby lake, in winter they would have snowball fights, in spring they would huddle under a shared umbrella whenever it rained, and in autumn they would throw leaves at each other. But now it’s pitch black and Michael has to admit, dark forests aren’t his most favourite things

He’s absolutely not scared and it’s absolutely not because Gavin forced him to play one of those stupid horror games with too many jumpscares too late at night last weekend. He won’t lie, he’s definitely going to punch Gavin the next time he sees him, but he’ll never admit that it’s because he’s scared of the dark and it’s Gavin’s fault.

“Hey Michael, are you okay?” Lindsay asks, nudging Michael’s elbow to get his attention. Michael nervously glances over at her and edges closer. The forest is dark and yeah, he’s kinda scared. Lindsay wouldn’t make fun of him for it, right?

“Can I hold your hand?” He asks, almost afraid of her reaction to the question.

“Hells yeah,” she replies with a broad grin as she grabs his hand in her own and swings her arm; suddenly, the long walk home in the dark doesn’t seem so bad. Even when the trees groan and the leaves rustle, Lindsay’s hand is warm in Michael’s and it keeps the soft smile on his face all the way back to the street.

But then they’re reaching the street corner on which they usually part ways and Michael really wishes he had asked Lindsay ages ago because his heart is fluttering in his chest and he doesn’t want to let go of Lindsay’s hand, but he does anyway. But the cold feeling of her letting go only lasts for half a second because Lindsay’s leaning on his shoulder and softly kissing his cheek and holy fuck, Michael feels like he could fly.

“I’ll see you here tomorrow, yeah?” She asks, and Michael can’t help the crimson blush that colours his cheeks as he nods. “Awesome,” she declares triumphantly, tapping her closed fist against his in the way they always do before heading down her street. As Michael walks the short distance back to his own house, he totally won’t ever admit that he absolutely did a little skip once Lindsay was out of sight.


	9. “I think you’re beautiful.” – Freewood – Movie Stars/Crew AU

In hindsight, perhaps agreeing to being dragged along to the bar with Gavin had been a bad idea. Gavin had complained that everyone else was busy so Ryan _had_ to come along with him even if he wasn’t going to drink. It wasn’t the fact that he was taking the lead actor of the movie out to drinks, it was the fact that he was taking _Gavin_ out for drinks; that was the problem.

If Ryan was honest with himself he still had no idea how he and Gavin had even interacted outside of Ryan watching him through a camera lens, let alone actually be friends, and good ones at that. Gavin and Michael were the leads of the movie, with Jack as a sound technician and Geoff as the head of the make-up department. Ryan and Geoff had met on a few previous sets, but that still didn’t explain why Geoff thought it would be great to introduce him to Gavin and the rest of their small gang of friends.

But here he was, Diet Coke in hand as he watched Gavin down his third whiskey of the night. He’d had a beer and some fancy cocktail at some point too so it was no surprise to anyone when Gavin almost ate shit when he tried to stand up. Ryan had caught him, one arm holding his shoulder and the other holding his waist.

“Well this is bloody cliché,” Gavin slurred, wrapping his arms around Ryan’s neck and staring dreamily into his eyes. As soon as Ryan felt his cheeks burn with a pink blush, he pulled Gavin back upright and let him sit back down on the stool himself.

He was literally just one of the countless camera operators on the set of the movie whilst Gavin was the star; his name would be plastered on the front of everything to do with the movie, his name would be chanted by fans of the movie as well as Gavin’s previous endeavours, his name would be remembered. Not that Ryan was jealous, he loved his job and honestly, there was no way he could deal with the attention Gavin received from the media and fans alike. It was just the fact that Gavin should be hooking up with supermodels, not hanging out in bars with camera operators.

Ryan could see why Gavin was so famous, though. Not only was he a phenomenal actor, he also had that beautiful British face and that fantastically lean body and that devilish smirk and _oh man, Ryan was in too deep_.

Meanwhile Gavin was slamming another whiskey and shuffling his stool closer to Ryan. “It’s a damn shame you prefer being behind the camera.”

“Why’s that?” Ryan asked, deciding to humour Gavin because there was no way in hell he was going to be able to get him to shut up if he ignored him.

“Because, my lovely Ryan, I think you’re beautiful.” Gavin confessed honestly, cheeks flushing red and Ryan had no idea whether it was a blush or whether it was from how much alcohol was in his system. He was too busy struggling to process what Gavin had just said; his heart beat fast and he barely managed to splutter in an attempt at a response before Gavin was interrupting him. “And I kinda really wanna kiss you right now.” He admitted, leaning forwards on his stool even further and smiling at Ryan, gaze darting from Ryan’s eyes to his lips and back again.

A distinct flash of ‘what the hell, he’s drunk and there’s no way he’ll remember this when he’s sober’ shot through Ryan’s mind before he replied. “I’d really like to kiss you too, but you’re drunk and I’m not an asshole.”

“I’m… you do?” Gavin’s eyes lit up and he nearly slipped off his stool so he leaned a palm on one of Ryan’s knees to steady himself. Ryan found it difficult to focus on anything but the contact between them; it was heavy and Ryan wanted nothing more than to haul Gavin close and kiss him like he had been desperate to do so for _so long_ , but he didn’t.

“Yeah, I’ve liked you ever since Geoff introduced you to me at that pre-filming party Burnie threw,” Ryan confessed, forcing down the butterflies that fluttered in his chest, rendering it difficult to breathe and focus. He remembered the party vividly; Burnie had hired out an entire hotel bar in order to help everyone involved in the production get to know one another. Geoff had been the only person Ryan had known so of course Geoff introduced him to his closest friends, and of course that included Gavin, one of the two lead actors of the movie.

“Oh my god, Ryan,” Gavin breathed out, and this time Ryan pushed back on Gavin’s shoulders to keep him upright on the barstool. “I really like you.”

“Yeah, you kinda said that already.” Ryan said, smiling as Gavin giggled to himself.

“I know, but I _really_ like you.” He repeated, a sloppy smile on his face as he gazed adoringly at Ryan. “You’re like, really great. And really hot, like _damn_ , you’re hot. Also you’re really nice! I really like you, Ryan.”

“I really like you too, Gavin, now how about I drive you back to mine and you can sleep on the couch? I don’t want you staying at home on your own and falling over or something like that.” Ryan suggested, one hand holding onto Gavin’s shoulder so he could ensure he didn’t trip and fall flat on his face when he nodded and sprung up from the chair. After Gavin handed over some cash to pay for their drinks, Ryan guided Gavin out the bar and to his car before carefully helping him into the passenger seat.

The ride home went better than expected. Gavin didn’t feel car sick and Ryan managed to escort him inside without the intoxicated Brit stumbling too much. However, once Ryan had pushed him to sit down on the couch, Gavin pouted up at him.

“Can I sleep in your bed?” He asked, the sadness on his face managing to rival that of a kicked puppy.

And really, how could Ryan say no to that?

“Fine, come here.” He said, smirking at Gavin’s outstretched hands and pulling him up. When Gavin refused to let go, Ryan continued to hold his hand as he showed him to his bedroom.

Ryan’s blush returned full-force when Gavin immediately started taking his clothes off because holy fuck, that was without a single doubt the body of a movie star.

“Like what you see?” Gavin purred in what was probably meant to sound alluring but came out sounding slurred and over-exaggerated.

Ryan chuckled and nodded before copying what Gavin had done, slightly more self-conscious as he pulled off his shirt and jeans. His only method of working out was whenever he had to lift the heavy camera equipment – he didn’t have a body as well-shaped as Gavin did. However, Gavin didn’t seem to care. In fact, his smirk grew as he unabashedly raked his gaze over Ryan’s body.

“Damn,” was all his alcohol-tainted mind could muster.

“Get into bed, you’re gonna be hungover as fuck tomorrow.” Ryan ordered, but there was no bite to his tone as he slipped comfortably under the soft covers of his bed. He felt the bed dip as Gavin joined him and he shivered when he felt Gavin’s hair tickle the side of his neck.

“G’night, Rye-bread,” Gavin cooed before resting his forehead against Ryan’s shoulder.

“G’night, Gavvy,” Ryan replied, using the exact same tone combined with a silly nickname before smirking at how quickly Gavin had fallen asleep. He couldn’t mock him, though, since Ryan joined him barely minutes later.

Despite knowing that Gavin was going to be groggy and hungover (and possibly violently ill) the next morning, he was certainly looking forward to talking to a sober Gavin about their previous conversation. Who knew, perhaps something could develop between them. They were an odd choice for a couple, sure, but oddities always seemed to surround Gavin. It certainly was his style.


	10. “I’ll still be here when you’re ready.” – Jackvin – No specific AU

Gavin shivered as Jack slipped one hand up the back of Gavin’s t-shirt to trail his fingers up and down Gavin’s spine. He lost himself to the gentle touches Jack was leaving along his body before he slowly pulled Gavin’s shirt off over his head. However, when he was carefully guided to lie down on the bed without the kiss being broken, Gavin forced himself to resist the urge to freeze.

The furthest they had gone together was heavy make-out sessions (and of course hands ended up wandering during those sessions). This was new territory, Gavin realised as Jack flipped them over so Gavin could straddle his lap.

Don’t get him wrong, this was nice. He loved kissing Jack – he kissed so sweetly and always loved to ensure that Gavin was enjoying it – but there was no way he could miss the slight roll of Jack’s hips and there was no denying that Jack’s hands were firmly planted on Gavin’s jean-clad ass. Honestly, the groping and clothed grinding he could get behind; but the fact that Gavin had never slept with a man before hung heavy at the forefront of his mind.

It was only when Jack’s hands trailed around to unzip Gavin’s fly that Gavin shifted his hips backwards, away from the contact.

“Is everything okay?” Jack softly asked, raising one hand to brush through Gavin’s messy hair in a comforting gesture.

“I uh… I-I’m good, yeah.” Gavin sighed and dropped his gaze to where he had rested his palms on the centre of Jack’s chest. It didn’t even sound convincing to himself, he was kind of nervous to hear what Jack thought. He risked a quick glance up and almost wished he hadn’t; Jack was looking up at him, light auburn hair awry and a concerned expression painted on his face. “Sorry, I’m… I’ve never been with a guy before. Like this, I mean.”

“We don’t have to do anything you’re uncomfortable with,” Jack assured, pulling Gavin down by his shoulders so he could wrap his arms around him in a warm embrace. Gavin tried to hide his face in the crook of Jack’s neck but was tugged up so their eyes could meet and Jack could softly kiss Gavin’s lips.

“I don’t think I’m ready.” Gavin sheepishly confessed after a few moments of silence.

Jack simply smiled warmly and adoringly at him for a couple of seconds before replying. “I’ll still be here when you’re ready.” He promised, and the reassuring smile really sold it for Gavin. He always knew Jack was telling the truth when he was smiling as fondly as that; it really affirmed just how damn much he loved him. “I love you, Gavin, I won’t make you do anything you don’t want to do.”

“Thanks, Jack,” Gavin replied, his own wide grin almost rivalling Jack’s. His heart felt like it was about to burst out of his chest with how pure and huge his love for his boyfriend was. Jack was willing to wait for Gavin to be ready, and that was something nobody else had done before. His reluctance was always the relationship-ender, but it had only intensified both of their feelings for one another. Words could never express how grateful Gavin was for the fact that Jack was perfectly content with waiting. “I love you too.”


	11. “Take my seat.” – Myan – Bumped into each other at the emergency room AU

After paying the cab driver and ensuring to tip him heavily as a ‘thanks for driving me to the hospital at 4am, I hope I didn’t get blood in your car,’ Michael limped his way into the emergency department. The lady at the reception desk smiled sympathetically when he told her that he’d tripped over his cat and smashed up his foot on a glass table and had told him to take a seat.

The waiting room was completely packed and Michael groaned. Honestly, he was just desperate to not be stood on his throbbing foot; he’d smashed it up pretty badly and hadn’t had the guts to pull the glass out, instead opting to hobble along on the tips of his toes on that foot. He’d even wrapped a towel around it in a vain attempt to alleviate the pain which turned out to be fruitless.

“Michael?” He almost leapt out of his skin when a familiar voice spoke from behind him. Michael carefully turned around and found himself face to face with one person he certainly hadn’t expected to see that night.

“Ryan? What’re you doing here?” He asked, worriedly glancing over Ryan’s body and hoping to hell that he wasn’t too badly hurt.

“Oh, I accidentally punched a wall.” He admitted with a sheepish smile. “I think I broke a finger.” Michael winced when Ryan removed an ice bag from his hand (something Michael had been far too in-pain and lethargic to notice before) to reveal the dark purple bruises colouring the little finger on his left hand.

“Shit, dude,” Michael said in awe and he kind of felt bad for not saying more, but he was so tired and everything hurt and he could barely form coherent thought let alone speak clearly. But then Ryan paused and his gaze dropped to the floor and Michael tries not to laugh at the gasp he let out (mostly because yeah, that little intake of breath was fucking adorable).

“Oh shit,” Ryan muttered, eyes going wide in shock as he stared at the once-white towel wrapped around Michael’s foot. The crimson red had completely coated it. “Take my seat,” he said, standing up quickly, sympathetic expression never leaving his face once as Michael slowly lowered himself onto the plastic seat. It wasn’t the most comfortable thing in the world but at least he wasn’t putting weight on his injured foot any more.

“Thanks, Ryan,” he said, smiling gratefully at him.

“No problem,” Ryan replied, “that looks like it really hurts. How did you do that?”

“Tripped over the cat and fucking ate shit,” Michael informed with a nonchalant shrug. Ryan, however, shook his head in sympathy. “Cleaning up the glass and blood tomorrow is gonna fucking suck.”

“I’ll help you if you want.”

“No, no way. Your hand-”

“Your foot-”

“That’s not the point, Ryan.” Michael snapped, laughing a little at how relaxing the back-and-forth argument was. It certainly helped him somewhat forget about his wounded foot, that was for sure. And when the lady in the chair next to Michael had her name called, Ryan instantly sat down and they continued their conversation. As the hours dragged on and they found themselves more exhausted than before, their conversations somewhat degraded into giggling and discussions of the silliest things.

It was about half past six in the morning when the sun slowly started to rise. The windows across from the pair gave them a spectacular view of the pale orange and pink haze the slowly rising sun casted over the horizon and into the waiting room. It gave some colour to the pristine white walls and floors, and when Michael glanced up at Ryan he was awestruck.

Despite his slightly bedraggled hair and sleepy expression, Ryan was still as beautiful and handsome as always. The fiery colours of the sunrise mixed perfectly with his golden hair and Michael struggled against the temptation to run his hands through it.

But then Ryan’s name was being called and Michael was forced to sit alone for another forty minutes whilst a doctor tended to Ryan’s injured hand.

While Ryan was absent, Michael found himself thinking. Mostly about Ryan. Of course he liked him and there was no denying his attractiveness, but was Michael really only just realising that he had feelings for the other man? Fuck, he had no fucking clue whether his tiredness was making him delirious or actually making him acknowledge hidden emotions.

But the way time seemed to drag on for _years_ as he waited for Ryan’s return and the way his face lit up in a broad grin when he saw Ryan stride through the double-doors he’d disappeared down earlier kind of gave Michael the answer he had been looking for.

However, the thing that really had him grinning was the fact that after Ryan had signed out, he returned back to sit with Michael. Despite yawning every couple of minutes (the painkillers he had been given seemed to make him even sleepier), Ryan continued to wait with Michael, talking and chatting about anything and everything as he waited to be seen.

At some point Michael had rested his head on Ryan’s shoulder, but neither of them cared. It was verging on seven o’clock and they were both exhausted. If Michael nuzzled into Ryan’s side a little more than he usually would have then he’d blame it on the lethargy and pain-addled brain.

Michael had barely closed his eyes for half a second but when he was opening them – Ryan was nudging his side to get his attention – another thirty minutes had passed. But this time a doctor was stood in front of him asking if he was Michael Jones and Michael almost completely forgot about his injured foot when he sprung up. He was lucky the doctor had brought him crutches to use so he could move around.

After an agonising hour of glass being pulled from his feet and stiches being sewn into the cuts, Michael was free to go. As he nudged the doors open, his heart did a weird backflip when he saw Ryan snoozing with his head lolling forwards.

“Hey, Rye-bread,” Michael muttered quietly, gently poking Ryan’s shoulder to rouse him from his nap.

“Hey, Michael,” Ryan replied, stretching his arms out – Michael totally didn’t stare, nope, not even at the tiny slither of skin that had been exposed as Ryan’s shirt rode up. “C’mon, I can drive us home.”

Michael really must have been out of it because he didn’t even consider questioning where he was until he took one glance at the coffee table that wasn’t broken into a thousand pieces. Ryan chuckled at his confused stare. “We’re at my house. There’s glass all over your floor and I don’t want you hurting yourself again.”

“Thanks, Ryan.” Michael replied, ambling over (still not used to the crutches he’d been given) to Ryan and kissing him on the cheek.

Only when he leaned back and caught the red-hot blush on Ryan’s face did he realise what he had done.

“Fuck, I’m-” he had started to explain in an attempt to save face, but was cut off when Ryan cupped his cheek and kissed him. On the mouth. Ryan was kissing him. _Ryan was fucking kissing him, what the fuck?_ Wait, shit, Michael barely managed to calm himself enough to actually remember to kiss back, leaning into the contact and _nope, he did not just squeak when Ryan kissed harder, that didn’t happen_.

Ryan pulled back, a sleepy smile on his face as he stared down at Michael. “You’re adorable, I hope you know that.”

“I, what? No, _you_ , sir, are the fucking adorable one here.” Michael declared, and he would have crossed his arms over his chest if he wasn’t forced to hold those stupid crutches.

Ryan chuckled and shook his head, ducking down to kiss Michael once more before pulling away. “I’m forbidding you from trying to go upstairs so you can sleep on the couch.”

Michael huffed indignantly and Ryan smirked. “Relax, it’s a pull-out,” he said as he walked over to demonstrate. Barely moments (and a few frustrated grumbles of not being able to use both hands) later and the sofa-bed was ready. Ryan grabbed a couple of blankets and pillows from a cupboard and set them neatly on the couch and Michael smiled gratefully up at him.

“Thanks for being so awesome, Ryan.”

“Hey, it’s no problem,” Ryan replied, “now go to sleep. I know it’s eight in the morning but I’ll text Geoff and explain what happened. I’m sure he won’t mind that we’re taking the day off. Good night, Michael.”

“Wait, do I not get a goodnight kiss?” Michael asked, smirking cheekily when Ryan chuckled, but he walked over to Michael anyway. He walked around the couch to lean over and give Michael a quick, chaste kiss before heading upstairs. He left Michael with butterflies in his chest and a smile on his face; despite the accidents that had led to them bumping into one another, that night hadn’t been half-bad. 


	12. “You can have half.” – Raywood – High School AU

“Did you seriously forget your lunch _again_ , Ray?” Ryan asked as he set his tray down on the table next to where Ray was intensely staring at his DS, a Pokémon battle playing out heavily in Ray’s favour on the screen.

“Hang on, lemme catch this Umbreon.” He didn’t even look up from his screen as he replied. Barely a few expertly timed attacks later and the Umbreon was contained in a pokéball and Ray was shutting the lid with a satisfied sigh.

“Hey.” Ryan picked up a few fries and shoved them into his mouth before poking Ray’s arm. “You didn’t answer my question.”

“Okay, fine. I forgot my lunch and you _know_ I never bring cash to school.” Ray explained with a noncommittal shrug.

“You really ought to bring money to school, man.” Ryan berated, sighing when Ray shook his head determinedly.

“Dude, the only people who bring money to school are the ones who buy weed from those tenth graders behind the bike shed.” Ryan chuckled when he remembered the look of disappointment on Ray’s face when Geoff had told him what _actually_ went on behind the bike shed during breaks. Michael and Gavin had almost cried with laughter when Ray admitted that he actually thought people met behind there to make out (Ryan had told them off for laughing despite also finding it pretty amusing. But he was Ray’s boyfriend, he was allowed to laugh at him). “Can I steal some of your fries?”

“You can have half.” Ryan nudged the box of fries across the table to Ray.

“Seriously?” Ray asked in surprise. He had suffered through the entirety of middle school with Michael (sometimes literally) biting the hands of anyone who tried to take his food; the fact that Ryan was willing to share was, well, an honour.

“Yeah, I’ve got this burger too.” He said, picking up the cheese burger from his plate and peeling away the wrapping.

“Michael said he once found a-”

“Nope, I don’t wanna know.” Ryan cut Ray off, shaking his head and taking a bite from the burger. It was fairly greasy and the cheese tasted like plastic, but he hadn’t expected anything else – it had come from the high school’s cafeteria after all.

“Okay, fine, I’ll tell you later,” Ray promised with a grin as he picked up a couple of fries, dipped them in the small pot of ketchup on Ryan’s tray and ate them. When Ryan looked over at him he couldn’t help but chuckle because somehow Ray had missed his mouth and smeared ketchup just below his mouth.

“What?” Ray asked defensively, despite the way he was mirroring Ryan’s smile with one of his own. “Do I have something on my face?”

“Yeah, just a little,” Ryan said, picking up a napkin and leaning forwards to gently wipe away the smudge. However, once he had placed the napkin on the table, he found himself stuck staring at Ray’s face. Ray simply smirked upon noticing the lovestruck look on his boyfriend’s face and leaned in to kiss it off of him.


	13. “Don’t cry.” – Freewood – Immortal Fake AH Crew

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm fascinated with the idea of them not knowing that they're immortal until _after_ they join the Fake AH Crew so here's the Immortal FAHC with a twist. I'd love to write more for this AU omg ^_^

Despite not being the one to suffer from the brunt of the bullets, Gavin’s chest still felt like it had caved in under the pressure of the emotional agony. He felt empty and shocked and grief-stricken and it was all too much. He couldn’t handle it. If he hadn’t already been curled up on the couch alone he would have felt like passing out.

His eyes stung like his tears were acid, his body ached from the tolls of the heist and of the horror, and he couldn’t stop crying if he wanted to. He shouldn’t be sat there; he shouldn’t be alive; Ryan shouldn’t have thrown himself between the cop’s loaded gun and Gavin; Ryan shouldn’t be dead.

He was hyperventilating yet he still felt like he couldn’t breathe – _shouldn’t be breathing at all_ , a dark, bitter voice in his mind added. Loud, distraught sobs broke free from his throat and remained as the only sound Gavin could hear in the Fake AH Crew’s base. In a house that was typically over-flowing with noise of bubbling laughter, brewing anger and bickering conversations, the overwhelming sadness was out of place.

But then again, nothing had felt right at all since Ryan’s lifeless body crumpled to the floor in front of Gavin’s feet.

Gavin wound his hands into his hair and curled up even tighter in the corner of the sofa. Try as he might, he couldn’t stop the events from replaying in his mind. It was like he was stuck on a loop of guilt and shame and anger directed solely at himself.

“No.” Ryan had snapped at the cop who had raised his pistol; the fire gleaming in his icy eyes enhanced by the black paint smeared around them and framed by the mask. “Don’t you fucking  _dare!_ ” The cop gave a hardened stare, aimed his gun, and fired. But before Gavin even had a chance to react, Ryan was ramming him in the shoulder in an attempt to shove him out of the way.

Gavin – who had been facing the other way, keeping an eye on the vault the vault Michael and Jack had been unloading into duffel bags – stumbled but avoided the bullets.

Ryan wasn’t as lucky.

Five rapid-fire bullets hit him in the centre of his chest. The roaring fire in his eyes was extinguished. He fell to the floor. Voices in Gavin’s ear - mainly Geoff’s - were screaming and shouting for the crew to get the fuck out. Gavin must have blacked out for a few moments because when he realised what he had done, Ryan’s murderer was dead on the floor too, head no longer intact from just how many rounds Gavin had unloaded into it from his SMG.

It took the combined efforts of both Michael and Jack to drag Gavin away from Ryan and into their getaway car. He was relieved of his guns and Michael have him a sympathetic simper as he buckled Gavin’s seatbelt for him; his hands were too shaky and mind too shocked to do it himself.

Upon returning to the base, everyone apart from Gavin and Geoff had retreated into the cold, dark night as rain began to slowly drizzle from the sky. Geoff retreated upstairs to his office, but not before picking up a bottle of strong whiskey. Meanwhile, Gavin collapsed on the couch and hadn’t moved since.

Time was a concept Gavin no longer had a grasp on. In fact, the only thing he had a grasp on was how much it _hurt_ to think about the fact that Ryan was gone. He had his forehead pressed against the armrest and his knees tucked up between his chest and the armrest with his arms wrapped around them yet he still didn’t feel as though he was small enough. He just wanted to disappear.

He was so lost yet focussed – the whirlpool of confusion in his mind left him feeling somewhat lightheaded, although crying probably didn’t help that – that he wasn’t sure whether to be surprised or not when he didn’t flinch when he felt Geoff’s hand on his back. It was a tentative yet firm touch and it somewhat grounded Gavin.

“Don’t cry.” Gavin’s breath caught in his throat and he could do nothing but let out another broken sob before deteriorating into shaking even worse because fucking hell, that was Ryan’s voice but _he’s gone_ and there’s no getting him back. The reality of the situation hit him harder than ever and he didn’t know if he could take it much longer.

The hand on his back was removed

“Hey, look at me.” Gavin’s heart hammered in his chest at an almost painful pace. He knew he was distraught over Ryan’s death but he hadn’t expected to go crazy just yet.

“It’s my fault,” Gavin choked out through wracked breathing. “You’re _dead_ and it’s my fucking fault.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” Ryan’s voice replied soothingly. A hand rested itself on Gavin’s shoulder and he couldn’t help but somewhat relax under the comforting gesture. “This was bound to happen anyway… But I’m not dead.”

Gavin simply shook his head and whimpered because no, it wasn’t true. He had been the one to watch the light fade from Ryan’s eyes; he had watched with a shattered heart as Ryan drew his last damn breath; he wished with every fibre of his being that it could have been him instead.

“Look at me, Gavin. Please,” Ryan begged pleadingly, and despite everything aching and his entire body quivering, Gavin raised his head and his heart sunk to the pit of his stomach. There, crouched in front of him with a concerned frown on his face, was the one and only Ryan Haywood. Honestly, Gavin thought he would have lasted a little bit longer before hallucinating, but at least he knew he wasn’t going to forget Ryan’s wonderful face just yet.

Instead of freaking out or yelling or crying even harder, he forced himself to even out his own breathing. He smiled at the realistic image of Ryan – because despite being grief-stricken, Gavin was well-aware (almost too aware) that Ryan was actually dead – and stared at him for a couple of moments. Then, with a quivering hand, he raised a hand to cup Ryan’s cheek.

Gavin’s eyes widened, his heart thumped heavily in his chest, and he held his breath in shock when his hand came into contact with warm skin and prickly stubble. That was no hallucination.

“After everything went black I woke up in an alley about a block away from the bank…” Ryan explained, not daring to break eye-contact with Gavin for fear of losing him to chest-heaving sadness and waterfalls of tears again.

“But…” Gavin started tentatively, almost scared that Geoff was about to burst through the door and ask him why he was having a conversation with his hand. “But you _died_ , Ryan.” Gavin’s voice cracked on the stressed word because bloody hell, that was the first time anyone had said it out loud. Although honestly, he was still struggling to believe that Ryan was real and alive and _here_ and not dead on the cold, blood-stained tiles of the bank.

“I know.” Ryan replied, and something in the glint in his eyes told Gavin that he was just as surprised as Gavin. “I have no idea how or why I’m not, y’know, dead. It doesn’t make any sense. Hell, I’ve even got scars on my chest from the bullets. I don’t know if this is a one-off miracle or-”

Gavin spoke over Ryan and cut him off with a swift, honest declaration of, “I don’t care,” before grabbing a fistful of the front of Ryan’s t-shirt to haul him in for a kiss filled with desperation and unspoken confessions. Ryan wasn’t dead and Gavin had never felt so alive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I planned out an extension for the ending but it didn't really fit and I'm in the process of writing it at the moment. When it's done I'll add it to this chapter and delete this lil note right here :3


	14. “I’ll drive you to the hospital.” – Freewood – X-Ray and Vav AU

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm always a slut for Mad King/Vav, alright?

When Vav finally reached safety, he peeled off his gloves and shoved them in his never-ending underwear before tentatively reaching around to touch the source of the white-hot agony. He winced when a jolt of pain resonated along the gash in his side and grimaced as his fingertips came into contact with the telling sign of warm, sticky blood.

He and X-Ray had been separated during the fight with some masked hooligan wielding a sword; Vav had just been lucky that the guy was absolutely _shite_ with the blade. He’d managed to dodge most of the attacks, slowing the man’s hands when he had the chance, but there was one wild swing that he hadn’t been able to evade. The blade nicked him in the side and he had collapsed to the floor.

“Go, Vav, I can handle him from here!” X-Ray had yelled, and in the panic and flurry of citizens running around in fear, Vav had managed to slip away through the crowds and into a concealed alleyway a few blocks away from the fight.

Vav sighed resignedly when he glanced down to his injury and saw crimson staining the royal blue fabric of his suit. Hilda was going to kill him for getting her specially designed suit messy, but Vav had other problems at that moment. Namely how the hell he was going to get back to his and X-Ray’s apartment without passing out along the way.

Before he knew what he was doing he was reaching into his underwear and pulling out his phone, dialling the first friendly name on his contacts list.

The phone didn’t even get through its second beep before the phone was being answered in an ushered and panicked voice. “Gavin, what the hell happened out there? I was watching the news and it said you got hurt.”

The familiarity of the voice brought comfort and Gavin found himself leaning against the brick wall behind him before sliding down it to sit on the floor. He unclipped his cape and balled it up to soak up the blood which continued to seep from his wound, ignoring the pain the action brought.

“I’m…” Gavin muttered, wincing when he found his voice to be weaker than he had imagined. “The guy had a sword and I got hit…”

“Fuck, are you gonna be okay?”

“Not gonna lie, I don’t know.” Gavin replied in a small voice.

“Where are you?” Ryan asked concernedly, his quiet voice almost matching Gavin’s in just how afraid he was for the superhero. The Mad King may have been a villain who opposed X-Ray and Vav in every aspect, but Ryan was Gavin’s boyfriend and he was determined to do everything he could to ensure his safety. “I’ll drive you to the hospital.”

“In an alleyway across from the gas station on tenth street.”

“I know the one,” Ryan replied, determination lacing his tone. In the background Gavin could faintly hear footsteps, doors opening and closing, and keys being jangled. “I’m going to hang up the phone so I can drive but _please_ , Gavin, don’t move.”

“I won’t,” Gavin promised. “Please don’t be long.”

“I’ll come as fast as I can without getting arrested,” was the reply Gavin got. It didn’t surprise him in the slightest; he had borne witness to countless of the Mad King’s acts, this would just be one more thing to add to the inconceivable pile of felonies. “I love you.”

Despite the red hot agony in Gavin’s side – the intensity of the pain had him feeling like he was on fire – he smiled. “I love you too.”

The line then went dead and Gavin carefully slipped his phone back into his underwear. He closed his eyes and focussed on breathing calmly and steadily, head resting against the rough brick wall behind him as he waited for Ryan.

In the end, the pain of his injury left Gavin confused and with no concept of time. When someone walked into the alleyway and blocked the too-bright yellow beam from the streetlight, Gavin sighed in relief and opened his eyes.

His formal attire long-abandoned, the Mad King had donned a pair of loose-fitted jeans, a plain blue t-shirt and a well-worn, brown leather jacket. The casual outfit was a good look for Ryan, Gavin decided. But his pain-addled brain was far too clouded for him to think about anything more intricate than that.

“Fuck,” Ryan cursed under his breath, brow furrowing and his worry becoming evident on his face as he crouched down next to Gavin. “How deep is the cut?”

“Dunno.” Gavin wanted to kick himself; how could he be so stupid and _not_ check how severe the cut was? It could have just been a tiny paper cut for all he knew (although it felt a lot more severe than that).

“It doesn’t matter,” Ryan insisted upon noticing Gavin’s dejected expression. “Give me your hand and I’ll pull you up.”

Gavin obeyed the order and yelped when his side gave a nasty twinge of pain. Ryan swiftly replaced Gavin’s hand with his own and adjusted the cape – the worrisome amount of dark crimson clearly evident on the once-blue cape – to tie it tightly around Gavin’s waist to assist in stemming the flow of blood.

“Is that too tight?” Ryan asked, searching Gavin’s face for any signs of discomfort that didn’t originate from the pain of his wound.

“No, that’s fine,” Gavin nodded. However, after taking one shaky step he cried out through gritted teeth and stumbled, only to be caught immediately by Ryan. Without a single hesitation, Ryan hooked one arm beneath Gavin’s knees and the other around his back to pick him up in one fell swoop.

Gavin couldn’t help but grin and lean forward, kissing Ryan lightly on his cheek before muttering a soft, “my hero.”

Most things from then on were a blur for Gavin, whose thoughts and memories had become foggy with blood loss and pain, but there was no way he was going to forget the way Ryan shook his head, or, more importantly, the beautiful, fond smile on his face as he sighed. It would have been an oxymoron for anyone else, but to Gavin, Ryan really was his knight in shining armour.


	15. “Stay there. I’m coming to get you.” – Freewood – RT Hybrid AU

So far the evening had been absolutely _top_. It had started out as Gavin, Michael and Geoff bar-hopping and drinking a different drink from each place. They’d danced, sung, laughed, and generally had a good time. But then Michael had almost thrown up on some poor lioness hybrid’s shoes so Geoff had called Griffon to take them home. Gavin wasn’t completely plastered (yet) and at the time, staying for a few more drinks – and to perhaps meet someone new – sounded like a great idea.

Now, however, as the hawk hybrid slides his barstool closer to Gavin’s, a predatory smirk on his face as he repeats _yet another_ fact about how great and wonderful hawk hybrids are in comparison to lyrebird hybrids, Gavin wishes he had made a different call. When the guy _finally_ excused himself for a few minutes to go to the bathroom, Gavin whipped out his phone and took his chance.

****  


Breathing a sigh of relief, Gavin relaxes as he sips his beer. When the hawk returns, Gavin is comforted by the knowledge that Ryan is on his way. He won’t have to put up with the creepy advances and flirtations of Hawk for much longer. The fact that he doesn’t even remembered the dude’s name is a tell-tale sign that Gavin couldn’t care less about him if he tried.

Sure enough, ten agonising minutes later Ryan is striding through the bar, a relieved expression washing over his face as he catches Gavin’s gaze from across the room. However, the relief instantly morphs into a mischievous smirk and Gavin finds himself eager for whatever plan Ryan had concocted in the journey here.

“C’mon, darlin’,” Ryan purrs in a low voice, Georgian accent thick and sweet like honey and _oh_ , Gavin knows _exactly_ what guise he’s going for. Following his lead, Gavin grins widely at him and stands up, relaxing into the assuring touch of Ryan slipping his arm around his waist. “Time for you to come home.”

As expected, hawk immediately springs off his chair and fluffs his wings out in a completely conspicuous attempt at intimidation. “Who the fuck are you?” He demands.

“I’m his boyfriend,” Ryan replies slyly, and he cuts off Hawk when he opens his mouth to say something stupid (Gavin isn’t psychic, but he’s noticed a pattern with this dude). “Do you _really_ want to start something? Because it’s late, I’m tired, and I have no time for your shit.”

Gavin decides that it’s the minute lowering of his head that sends the message home; Ryan’s bull horns have always been impressive, and it’s no surprise that Hawk is intimidated.

“Shit, are you _really_ his boyfriend?” Hawk asks, disbelief and annoyance dripping from his tone.

“Fuck yeah I am,” Ryan shoots back, and Gavin’s heart skips a beat when he notices that Ryan’s leaning in, but he quickly gets over the shock and meets Ryan half-way in a kiss. Ryan’s lips are warm and soft and _damn_ does Gavin wish Ryan wasn’t already pulling away.

“Fucking hell, fine.” Hawk snaps, and Ryan smirks before leading Gavin out of the bar. The booze hasn’t really gone to his head but he’s certainly grateful for the ability to somewhat lean on Ryan as they walk over to Ryan’s car. Gavin even casually drapes one wing over Ryan’s shoulder and all the heat rushes to his face when Ryan relaxes into the touch.

The car ride back to Gavin’s place is silent albeit not awkward. Gavin hums along softly to the quiet tune emanating from the radio and Ryan occasionally casts a quick glance over at him. It’s a comfortable, mutual silence. One that Gavin easily loses himself in and before he knows it, Ryan’s stopping the car along the kerb and Gavin’s house is right there.

“Thanks for driving me home,” Gavin says earnestly as he climbs out of the car – but not before accidentally smacking himself in the face with a wing. Ryan laughs and shakes his head in disbelief, but there’s something else in that fond smile of his as he watches Gavin walk around the car to the driver’s side. “Thanks for saving me from that prick,” he says once Ryan has wound his window down.

“It’s no problem,” Ryan replies, “I’m just glad you’re okay.”

Gavin grins and leans forwards to kiss Ryan once more, lingering for a couple of too-short seconds that are still blissful before skipping into his house, wings fluttering to help him stay upright. His giddiness may be from the alcohol, but it’s mostly from the wide-eyed look of a man completely enamoured that followed him as he shut the front door. And as Gavin flopped face-forwards onto his bed, wings spread out and a wistful smile on his face, he couldn’t help but smile even brighter when he realised that he _knew_ he felt the same. 


	16. “Be careful.” – Freewood - Reverse AH Crew

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is _technically_ the Fake AH Crew (like the prompt requested), but Ryan  & Gavin’s roles are reversed á la [this](http://youre-my-boi-micool.tumblr.com/post/124069619180/i-like-need-someone-to-write-a) lovely piece of artwork!!

Silence. Silence was something Ryan isn’t used to. It was either the comforting tapping of keys on keyboards, laughter and conversation seeping through the blockade of his headphones, or the jubilant clinking of glasses and sloshing of alcohol costing more than Ryan’s apartment itself.

Now, however, the Fake AH Crew’s base – a high-end house Geoff had added and tinkered to, converting spare bedrooms into an office and a planning room, and the basement into a soundproofed firing range – was almost completely silent. There was the occasional rustle of a duffel bag as someone triple-checked its contents, the murmurs of “have you got your-” and “of course, I’m not an idiot,” and the – slightly less comforting – echoes of guns being handled.

Pre-heist preparation was always tense and Ryan had never gotten used to it. The jokes shared on the heist would only start once they were sure they were going to succeed. And with the Fake AH Crew that confidence usually set in about ten minutes before they were due to leave the front door.

Ray was knelt on the floor, slowly disassembling his sniper rifle and loading it into its case on the coffee table. Every single click or slide of metal sent shivers down Ryan’s spine. Ryan was sat on the couch opposite Ray and he watched intently, transfixed by how fluid Ray’s hands moved over the pieces.

Geoff was staring at the cork board he’d brought in from their planning room; it had a huge map of Los Santos covered with pins, strings connecting them and scribbles of red marker. He was committing every single speck of ink and fibre of string to memory. They couldn’t risk letting anything go wrong.

Michael strolled in through the door leading from the hallway and Ryan almost leapt out of his skin when he spoke. “Gavin wants you. He’s in the bathroom.”

Ryan wordlessly complied, standing up and smoothing down his dark blue button-down shirt – he’d taken off the knitted black sweater long ago when the temperature had risen alongside the tension in the base – and then he headed for the bathroom.

He stayed as quiet as possible when he slowly opened the bathroom door and closed it behind himself, and he smiled when he saw the familiar smile on Gavin’s face. It was welcoming, assuring, even, to see Gavin so calm and relaxed when everyone else was so high-strung and focussed. Although to be fair, Gavin was a wildcard; he always went in, fire burning in his eyes and guns blazing, not a care in the world as he shot people down like dominos.

In retrospect, Ryan should be afraid. He should tremble at the very sight of the mercenary who struck fear into the hearts of even the strongest of LSPD officers. But he didn’t. In fact, he did the exact opposite. He walked forwards, cupped Gavin’s face in his hands and kissed him.

Gavin smiled into the kiss and Ryan felt some of the tension seep from his shoulders, and when he finally broke the soft, chaste kiss, Ryan felt as though some of Gavin’s chilled demeanour had transferred over to him.

“Can you help me with my face paint?” He asked, holding out the three pots of the iconic colours. Ryan nodded, a fond smile on his face as he dipped his fingers into the white. Gavin always started with the white. He would paint it all over his face and by the end he’d look like a ghost. Ryan trailed his hands over Gavin’s face, making sure to cover everything evenly. After washing his hands, Ryan went for the red and dipped his thumbs in it before swiping underneath and around Gavin’s eyes, trailing some along his nose as well. It was haphazard and messy, but that was exactly how Gavin liked it.

The black came last and Ryan was a lot gentler with this. He caressed Gavin’s cheeks with his hands as he coated his cheekbones in the black substance; he gently trailed three fingers down from just above Gavin’s lips down to his chin with the softest of touches; and he was careful and tentative as he drew circles around Gavin’s eyes before filling them in and dragging two lines, one from each eye, down to the middle of his cheeks.

Painting Gavin’s face always calmed Ryan; the slow, fluid strokes of his fingers were easy to get lost in. And he was well aware that Gavin also took comfort in the fact that Ryan was the one to paint his face simply because it was almost as if he had taken a piece of his lover out onto the battlefield. Ryan’s deft fingers had crafted the intentionally sloppy masterpiece that resided on Gavin’s face and Gavin revelled in it.

When Ryan was finished, Gavin turned to the mirror and grinned. Anyone else would see that maniacal grin on that face coated in Vav’s iconic face paint and would pass out; Ryan just smiled and kissed the top of Gavin’s head before leading the way downstairs.

A glance at the clock on the wall of the living room told Ryan that it was 8:45pm. They were due to depart in fifteen minutes. That gave Gavin enough time to quickly check his kit before loading up his favourite SMG and slinging it over his shoulder. He tucked a pistol under his leather jacket – which Ryan already knew was the home to at least seven concealed blades – and pulled on his mask.

The skull on the front of it was grinning, just like Ryan knew Gavin was underneath it as he bounced on the balls of his feet _desperate_ for Geoff to call the heist on, but there was still ten minutes to spare. Ryan’s computer was already set up, everyone already had their earpieces in, and everything was ready.

With Ryan watching over them from hacked security cameras and through their headsets, they were bound to stay safe. If the police left their station early, Ryan would warn them; if guards were armed, Ryan would let them know; if traffic lights weren’t in their favour, Ryan would change them. Geoff had expressed numerous times – often while drunk – about how grateful he was that they had Ryan to watch over them like some kind of sweater-wearing ‘Nerd God.’

“Alright,” Geoff spoke up, clapping his hands together. A wild fire of excitement danced in his eyes as he strode towards the door. “Let’s heist.”

Before anyone had a chance to leave, Ryan walked over to Gavin and smiled at him. “Be careful,” he said softly before kissing the top of the mask.

Ray didn’t even try to stifle his snort of laughter. “Gay,” he called out, elongating the ‘y’ and prompting laughter from Michael.

“What the fuck.” Geoff deadpanned, rolling his eyes. “This guy is supposed to be the scariest motherfucker in Los Santos and you just smooched the top of his mask.”

Ryan chuckled and chose to not reply – he didn’t want to hold them back and he knew that if they got into this conversation they might be there a while. “Remember to turn on your comms devices and tell me when you’re in position so I can keep track of you. The guards at that bank are known to be assholes.”

“Nice, I’ll make sure to shoot them extra hard for you, Ry!” Gavin chirped, giving him a quick wave before skipping out the front door Jack had held open and piling into the van. After closing the door, Ryan smiled and sighed to himself. Being part of the Fake AH Crew was still surreal, but as he sat down at his computer in one of the side rooms of the base, Ryan couldn’t help but smile to himself as he followed the van through the security footage on his screens.

How could he _not_ laugh? Gavin was leaning out the window and Geoff was vainly trying to yank him back in and the heist was beginning and blood was pumping through Ryan’s veins. Citizens cowered in fear the second they caught a glimpse of the wildly grinning skull mask, but Ryan relaxed. He wasn’t going to deny it; he was head-over-heels for the badass in the mask with blood splattered over his clothes and gunpowder staining his fingers.


	17. “Close your eyes and hold out your hands.” – Ryackvin – Spies AU

They’re sitting on the roof of the complex, ice cold drinks in their hands as they bask in the mutual companionship. After two whole months of Ryan constantly being called out for jobs, Jack constantly accompanying Geoff in meetings, and Gavin constantly being needed for hacking jobs, they were finally together.

Ryan had barely even stripped himself of his black skin-tight stealth suit before throwing on comfortable jeans, trainers and one of Jack’s hoodies before announcing the unofficial get-together on the roof. He’d labelled it that because Michael and Ray had been in the room when Ryan had suggested it and while eyes were on them, it couldn’t be a date.

The Rooster Agency was a name known worldwide. It was infamous for its agents being the best in the world; their hackers could rival even those of MI6, but to be fair they had somewhat taken their best agent. Gavin had worked there for a good five years before following his ambitions and joining the Rooster Agency after working successfully on a mission with one of Ramsey’s best spies – the one and only Ryan Haywood. Jack had been assigned to their job as their invisible aid – he was to stay at the RA headquarters and verbally assist them. All in all, the mission had been one of the most successful to date and the trio had fallen quickly into a friendship.

Allies were valued highly within their line of work. If you were friends with an explosives expert, they could supply you with bombs and you would loan them your skill. Ryan, Jack and Gavin found themselves swapping stories and favours and before they knew it, they were inseparable.

It had been after one unforgettable mission where their radios had cut off, and Ryan and Gavin – who had been assigned field jobs – were separated. They were forced to lay low for an entire week before returning to the Agency. Needless to say, they were simply thankful that Geoff was the only one to witness their reunion; elated grins turned into bone-crushing hugs and frantic kisses of previously unspoken confessions that had weighed on their shoulders for far too long.

Ryan remembers the event as vividly as if he was watching it back on a recording; nothing had ever improved his life so significantly. It was life-changing. It was almost hard to believe that that was exactly three years ago. But as Ryan slips his hand into the centre pocket of the hoodie he’d stolen – he’d slipped the boxes in there before he left their room – he wouldn’t wish it to be any other way.

As he glances to his left, Ryan can’t help but smile as he takes in the view. Jack is leaning back on one elbow, legs dangling over the edge and a glass of red wine in his other hand. The crimson liquid swirls in the glass and captures the fiery haze of the sunset beautifully, and Ryan finds himself captivated as Jack lifts it to his lips and takes a sip, savouring the rich taste. Jack is the absolute picture of relaxed; just the sight of him so tranquil soothes Ryan and reminds him of just how deeply in love he is.

And when he looks to the right, Ryan’s greeted with the same aura. Gavin’s palms are planted on the floor behind him and he’s leaning back, watching with a smile of awe on his face as the sun slowly sets. The oranges and yellows enhance the blonde of his hair and it reminds Ryan of just how damn soft that hair is between his fingers when he runs his hands through it. It’s one of his pastimes, really; whether they’re lazing around in bed, sitting down for lunch, or enraptured in the throes of passion, both Ryan and Jack love to touch Gavin’s hair.

Ryan’s fingers brush the corner of one of the three boxes and he makes a decision; now.

“Hey,” he says, glancing from Jack to Gavin and struggling to not get distracted by their combined beauty again, “I love you.”

Jack smiles and it’s as if the sun has risen again while Gavin blushes and it matches the pink hues of the sunset just across the horizon. They’re captivating forces of nature and _dammit_ , Ryan needs to concentrate. He has the rest of his life to admire the loves of his life.

“We love you too,” Jack replies, sitting up to kiss Ryan softly on the cheek and the only thing it does is amplify Ryan’s smile.

“In-between missions and meetings and everything, Geoff gave me a day off.” Ryan begins, but he’s caught up in Jack’s infections laughter that fills the otherwise silent atmosphere. They’re so far up that the buzz of the city is barely background noise.

“Wow,” Gavin exclaims incredulously and in disbelief, “Geoff let you have time off?!”

“I know, it’s a shocker,” Ryan jokes with a fond smile.

“So what did you do on your day off?” Jack asks, a curious smile on his face as he catches Ryan’s gaze.

“I bought you something,” he replies, “both of you.”

He’s surprised his hands don’t shake as he pulls out the three slim boxes; the one with green trimming is Gavin’s, blue is Jack’s and red is Ryan’s. Those colours have always been theirs; their outfits on missions have always had those colours amongst the black, Gavin’s eyes have always reminded Ryan of the most picturesque of forests, and Jack has always been the most calm and collected and caring, just like the sky on a clear day.

He holds out their boxes and shuffles back to watch them open them. The silence and the awed expression coming from Jack kind of gives Ryan the impression that he already has an idea of what he’s about to see.

For safety reasons, rings are against dress codes unless they’re wedding rings, which is why Ryan chose bands to go around their wrists instead of their fingers. Each band was crafted from silver and a single, thin stripe of colour runs through the middle – Gavin’s is emerald, Jack’s is aquamarine, and Ryan’s is ruby.

Ryan opens his mouth to explain his intentions but the words catch in his throat and he stammers and verbally falls flat on his face, nerves dragging his carefully planned words from him. He casts a glance to Jack and sighs in relief when his eyes light up, a smile crossing his face as realisation dawns on him.

“Are you proposing?” He tentatively asks, carefully holding the band with both hands, his drink on the floor beside him and the box in his lap. Jack’s torn between staring at the piece of jewellery in his hands and staring at Ryan in search for an answer.

Ryan can’t help but break out into a nervous smile. “Yeah,” he answers breathlessly, “if that’s okay with you two, I mean.”

“I can’t imagine spending the rest of my life any other way.” Gavin replies with all the confidence of a man brought up to speak his mind and not let once-in-a-lifetime opportunities pass. He’s always been compulsive, but nine times out of ten it’s garnered him success. “I wanna hear you say it, though.” Gavin adds, a gleeful grin painted on his face – it’s brighter and more beautiful than the sun that’s almost completely hidden beneath the horizon.

“So, Jack, Gavin,” Ryan says, silently breathing a sigh of relief when he finds that his voice has returned to him, “would you like to get married?”

Marriage between agents is permitted, but it’s strongly advised against. Some couples made it work – take Michael and Lindsay for example, a perfect power duo – and some didn’t. Some sacrificed missions for their significant other, some risked their lives, and some are now only names on silver plaques, two dates and one name engraved in the metal.

“Of course,” Jack declares, nodding and smiling and blushing. But then Ryan takes note of the way Jack’s eyes are glistening with happy tears and he can’t help but grin right back.

“I’d love nothing more.” Gavin puts it heartfelt and eloquently and _fuck_ , Ryan’s heart does a backflip and he’s surprised at himself when he’s able to smoothly slide the band onto Gavin’s left wrist because his hands are shaking and he can barely keep calm. He leans in to firmly kiss Gavin, relishing in the moment for a couple of seconds before turning to their other lover.

Jack finally relents and wipes away a few stray tears and watches in awe as Ryan picks up the bracelet and slides it onto Jack’s left wrist – the same as Gavin’s – and Jack throws his arms around Ryan’s neck to pull him in for a comfortably tight embrace which he eagerly returns.

Ryan’s just able to make out Jack’s muffled voice declaring a soft, “I love you so damn much,” into the barrier of Ryan’s shoulder. Gavin shuffles over on his knees to press a kiss to the top of both of their heads before picking up the remaining box on Ryan’s lap.

“Ry,” he says, reaching for Ryan’s left arm. Jack leans back a bit to allow for breathing room, but still keeps one arm slung over Ryan’s shoulders. “Now it’s your turn.”

Jack holds Ryan’s left arm out whilst Gavin stares at the piece of metal in amazement for a couple of seconds. By now they’ve already acknowledged that the colours had been chosen to specifically match the ones they were always identified with, but seeing the vibrant ruby ring cutting through the middle of the silver is a memorable sight to behold. And as Gavin carefully slides it onto Ryan’s wrist – the bracelet fitting perfectly – it finalises everything.

In that moment, as Jack leans his head on Ryan’s shoulder and as Gavin does the same, their left hands in a pile in Ryan’s lap, everything is perfect. There are no missions or co-workers or bosses or enemies to worry about, there are no schedules to work around in order to actually meet up as a trio, and there is nothing to disturb them. There’s just the overwhelming (but certainly not unwelcome) sense of love and passion and dedication hanging in the warm night air as the sun’s rays dwindles into darkness and the picturesque heavy purple and blue night sky takes over, stars twinkling above their heads.


	18. “Here, drink this. You’ll feel better.” – Turnwood – Magic AU

Opening her eyes had been a fatal mistake so Meg groaned and smothered her face in the pillow in a futile attempt to go back to sleep. In hindsight, accepting Geoff’s homebrewed liqueur had been a terrible idea; it always was. Accepting alcohol from wizards in general was a poor idea since they always added _something_ to it to enhance the effects which regretfully also enhanced the killer hangovers.

At least she had the soft embrace of the warm bed and its covers to soothe her aching head and body. She could faintly hear Ryan bustling around in the kitchen downstairs; the sound and smell of sizzling bacon was like music to her ears. The thought of seeing Ryan – probably still shirtless and in his pyjama pants – preparing a cooked breakfast was a sight Meg could never get enough of, so she took a deep breath and hauled herself out of bed.

She shivered as the cool air instantly hit her bare skin. Ryan must have taken her out of her dress and tucked her into bed in her underwear; he was always such a gentleman. However, any thoughts of anything other than the intense pain pounding in her head dissolved as she squeezed her eyes shut for a few moments until the vertigo and bleariness passed.

That was it. She was never accepting any homemade alcohol from Geoff ever again.

After pulling one of Ryan’s hoodies over her head and basking in the comfort the familiar smell brought, she shambled her way downstairs. The intense brightness of the white kitchen sent another twinge of pain rocketing around in her head but she persevered and slumped down at the table.

“Here,” Ryan said, and Meg couldn’t help the flutter of happiness when she looked up through squinted eyes to see her boyfriend smiling fondly down at her. “Drink this. You’ll feel better.” A small cup of shimmering green liquid was set down on the table in front of her and she picked it up and eyed it warily. The last time she’d accepted a drink from someone with magic she had ended up blackout drunk with the hangover of a lifetime afterwards.

But then she glanced up through the mess of her vibrant mess of purple hair and saw the way Ryan was sympathetically looking at her. He idly ran a hand through her hair to help her get it out of her face and she wordlessly allowed Ryan to pick up a spare hairband from the kitchen counter and tie her hair up in a ponytail. She smiled affectionately in thanks and downed the drink.

The powerful taste of freshness with a hint of something sweet instantly hit her senses, but the second she swallowed it she immediately perked up. There was a hint of something unfamiliar in the drink, but then again, the taste of magic was always unidentifiable yet completely unmissable. But there was no way she could miss the fact that her hangover – and all the accompanying dull aches and pains – had completely disappeared.

“Thanks, Ryan,” she said, smiling broadly at him and standing up from the chair to wrap her arms around his neck and pull him down for a kiss. Ryan leaned into it, hands falling to Meg’s waist as he relished in the blissful, domestic moment. She forced back a giggle when she pulled back a little just to see the somewhat dazed expression on Ryan’s face; she couldn’t believe how lucky she was to have such a loving dork of a mage for a boyfriend.


	19. “Stay there. I’m coming to get you.” – Risingwood – Fake AH Crew

In reality, Jon should have seen this coming.

He had an entire blog dedicated to updates on the Fake AH Crew; he practically glorified their exploits. It was the sole reason he had been fired from the Daily LS News. Hell, he was even dating the damn Vagabond for Christ’s sake! He was bound to meet one of the crew’s rivals at one point or another.

He just hadn’t anticipated that he would be smacked around the back of his head after walking out of a convenience store before being dragged into a van. The blindfold followed soon after and his ebbing consciousness told him he was screwed.

The next thing he knew he was waking up, wrists bound behind his back and a tight piece of rope wound around his waist, securely keeping him effectively locked in place on an uncomfortable wooden chair. He wriggled a little just to test how tightly the ropes had been tied and groaned when they rubbed at his wrists.

“I wouldn’t bother.” A sinister voice crooned from in front of him.

“Who are you?” His reporter instincts were kicking in; hopefully they wouldn’t make him want to kick himself instead.

The stranger chuckled menacingly and the sound of nails running over something metallic sent a shiver down Jon’s spine.

“Do you really think you have the power to be asking questions here, Risinger?” Jon’s breath caught in his throat at the man’s words and he stiffened uneasily. “I’ll take that as a no.” Footsteps told him that his attacker – or, most likely, the guy in charge of his attackers – was circling him.

“I have a few questions for you.” He declared, halting directly in front of Jon. “Here’s how this is going to work: I’m going to ask you a question and you’re going to answer it.”

“What if I don’t?” Jon cockily asked, but he sorely wished he’d kept his mouth shut when the end of a metal bat was being pressed warningly against his cheek. The metal was chilling and solid, and Jon hoped to high hell that the man wasn’t strong physically as he was with his threats.

“I’ll make you wish you had.” He answered simply, removing the end of the metal bat from Jon’s cheek and stepping back. “And there’s far more where that came from.”

A heavy silence hung in the air for a few seconds before the man spoke up again. “Tell me what you know about the Fake AH Crew.”

_Technically_ that wasn’t a question, so Jon remained silent. But then a fist emblazoned with metal rings collided with his jaw and if he hadn’t been strapped to his seat he would have been sent reeling. Some of the metal must have torn the skin because he felt a trickle of something wet and warm slide down his cheek and the whole left side of his face felt like it was on fire, the cut stinging uncomfortably with pain.

“Answer the question.”

“That wasn’t a question.” Jon sniped back. He knew he’d regret it, but he knew better than to let people like this man get away without at least _some_ antagonising.

“Fine.” He snapped. “What do you know about the Fake AH Crew?”

“I take it you’ve read my blog.” Jon coolly remarked.

“Which is why we took you,” came the chilling reply. “You know far more than you post on the Internet. You’re directly linked to the Fake AH Crew and you know things that we need.”

“I’m not telling you _shit_.” Jon spat; he’d defend the crew until he drew his last breath. It was only in that moment that he actually realised how close that may be.

At some point Jon lost track of time; he assumed it was sometime before he became a blabbering reel of “no, no, no, no, no-” and before the beatings ceased being systematic – one forceful thwack in a new place for every time Jon didn’t give an answer – and derailed into an endless battering. His body was aflame with agony and his throat felt like sandpaper from screaming and he was almost positive that something (or numerous somethings) had broken. Hell, he wouldn’t be surprised if his whole body fell apart into a thousand pieces.

But then the metal baseball bat _didn’t_ hit him and for a few seconds Jon thought that this was it – he was dying. However, the blindfold was removed from behind and Jon was greeted with the darkness of a dimly lit warehouse. He didn’t dare look down at his own beaten and broken body; despite knowing that it all probably felt a lot worse than it looked, he still didn’t think he could stomach the sight.

“Turn around before I’m gone and I’ll put a bullet through your head. I don’t care how much we need your knowledge – if the Vagabond gets anonymity then so do I.” The gang leader said, and Jon shivered; due to pain or fear, he could no longer tell. It no longer mattered. But the footsteps were dying out and a door was falling shut and Jon breathed a pained sigh of relief. It was more of a wheeze but the tension was seeping from him quicker than his blood, which was good.

“Hello?” He called out meekly, voice echoing in the presumably large room and was met with silence. He held his breath to try and pick out any other sounds but was still met with nothing. If he wasn’t in so much damn _pain_ he would have craned his neck around to check for people.

An agonising wriggle told him that _fuck yes, they hadn’t taken his phone_ (what morons), and with some expert shuffling, he was able to work it out of his pocket and into his hands. His hands were slippery with sweat (and probably also blood) but he managed to find what he needed.

He held down the home button and silently thanked God for Siri. “Call Ryan,” he said, and the phone beeped in confirmation.

“Calling Ryan.” It replied in its monotone mechanical voice and the phone began to beep. He turned the volume up as high as it would go and he mentally crossed his fingers in hopes that it would work.

“Hey, Jon,” Ryan answered in a cheery voice. Jon almost felt guilty just knowing that his lover’s mood was just about to plummet.

“Ryan,” Jon rasped out, voice wavering uncharacteristically, but he forced himself to speak as clearly as he could through the endless pain. “Help.”

“What’s wrong?” Ryan asked, immediately switching to his concerned boyfriend mode.

“Some fuckers shoved me in a van and took me somewhere… They wanted me to talk about the Fake AH Crew.” He replied, persevering despite the agony throbbing all over his body. He felt like he could drown in pain. “When I didn’t they- fuck, Ryan. It hurts so much.”

“Hey, hey, Jon. Listen to me,” Ryan soothed in an attempt to reassure him. The calming tone helped, but did nothing to dull the pain. “I’ll tear them apart.” He declared confidently, and okay fine, that definitely brought a simper to Jon’s face.

“They put a blindfold on me. I don’t know where I am.” He hadn’t meant for it to sound so pathetic, but he’d whimpered and fuck it, he didn’t care anymore. The tears hadn’t stopped falling ever since he’d suffered the brunt of the first strike, and now they were returning at full force, leaving wet tracks amongst streaks of crimson blood along his cheeks.

“Leave your phone on and I’ll get Gavin to track it down.” He informed, and Jon could just about hear Ryan rushing around the base in order to locate the hacker. “Stay there. I’m coming to get you.”

“Thank you, Ryan.” Jon choked out, heart in his throat as his hands began to shake.

“I’ll rip their goddamn throats out for laying a single finger on you.” Ryan replied calmly. It should have sounded threatening and terrifying; the infamous Vagabond was laying out his torturous intentions, but it had been spoken in a reassuring tone and Ryan’s confidence was the sole reason he was staying strong.

“Good.” Jon affirmed. _Man_ did he wish he could have seen Ryan’s face; Jon wasn’t a particularly violent man which was, given who he had fallen in love with, strange. He could only imagine the gleeful grin on his lover’s face as he heard Jon genuinely wish for someone else to suffer. “Give ‘em hell.”

“Will do, dear,” Ryan said, and despite the pain, despite the fear, despite everything he had been through that night, the familiarity of the fond petname soothed Jon. “I gotta hang up now.”

“Alright.” Jon said, taking a deep breath to calm himself. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” Ryan declared before hanging up the phone. Jon managed to hit the lock button and somehow crammed it back into his pocket without his hands quivering too terribly. As he sat in silence, not even the sounds of traffic or the bustling of the insomniac city to comfort him, he began to realise how badly he had suffered from the blow to the head.

He felt dazed; as if time was going fast yet not at all, all whilst he barely managed to keep his eyes open. Staying awake was a chore, but he knew he had to do it. It was either that or potentially worsen things by falling unconscious. At least this way he was able to feel his hope being rekindled as he heard the tell-tale sounds of gunshots and explosions and yelling; the Fake AH Crew had arrived.

But it was when the double doors across from him flew open that Jon was intensely grateful that he had stayed awake. One sole person was striding across the room, blood dripping from him like he had just bathed in it, and a machine gun slung over his shoulder and a blood-stained knife in one hand. There was no doubt that he had followed through with his promise of tearing out the throats of his attackers.

The black mask had been turned red with blood, and Jon _grinned_. Anyone else would have been terrified, but Jon couldn’t have been more thankful to see the Vagabond for he knew that as long as Ryan was around, he was safe.


	20. “Can I kiss you?” – Turnwood – Girl Gang AU

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is part of a bigger AU that will be written... some day.

The soft spray of water against his skin as the waves crash against the wooden pillars holding the pier up may be cool, and the floor he’s sat on may be hard and slightly damp, but Meg’s hand in Ryan’s much larger one is warm. His heart feels like it’s floating, not dissimilar to the occasional piece of driftwood that floats past beneath them.

They’re sat on the very end of the pier, legs dangling over the edge as they watch the sun slowly meet the horizon. The fiery sunset is beautiful and Ryan finds himself captivated by the ever-changing rays of orange and gold, but there’s a much more picturesque sight; the orange haze glimmers wonderfully in the deep purple of Meg’s hair. Ryan likes sunsets, but Meg’s hair is the iridescent galaxy that comes afterwards and he finds that eternally enthralling.

Honestly, Ryan can’t believe his luck. He can’t believe he’s had the pleasure of meeting the notorious doll with a gun, can’t believe Griffon – and the other ladies of her crew – were amazed by his tech skills enough to offer him a place in their gang, can’t believe he fell for Meg, can’t believe Meg noticed his crush on her. Actually, he’s a flubbing and blushing mess whenever she’s around so no, he’s not surprised that she noticed. However, he’s still in awe at the fact that she was the one to ask him out on a date, wining and dining him before dragging him down the pier to watch the sunset.

She has the whole city in the palm of her hand, yet she’s chosen him.

He really doesn’t understand why Meg – looking ethereal with the soft glow of the neon lights from the Ferris wheel shining in her hair, the shining flyaway strands almost resembling a halo – would ever go for a guy like Ryan. He normally wears the same pair of comfortable (albeit slightly oversized and incredibly worn) jeans and either a t-shirt or a hoodie depending on what sort of day it is; he can’t see the appeal, really.

Although Meg’s grin as she took in the sight of him in his best pair of dark jeans – they were slightly on the form-fitting side but Meg simply nodded in approval – and a sweater he’d pulled over a navy button-down shirt may have convinced him to shake up his wardrobe a bit. If dressing up like an absolute nerd (in the wise words of Mica, who had snickered at his outfit but approved nonetheless) brought a smile to Meg’s face, then Ryan would do it without hesitation.

Just as the last few inches of the sun start to dip beneath the horizon, Meg lightly squeezes Ryan’s hand to grab his attention. He turns to her with what is probably the silliest smile on his face, but he can’t find it in himself to care.

“Can I kiss you?” She asks, eyes only leaving Ryan’s to quickly sneak a glance at his lips before returning. Ryan’s heart skips a beat and he curses himself at his own response.

“I uhh… of course!” His voice cracks and he almost flubs his words and he definitely sounds like a fool, but Meg’s smile only grows. That’s the last thing he sees before her other hand is on his cheek and his eyes flutter close as she leans forwards. The soft brush of her lips against his sets his heart off heart hammering in his chest so intensely that he’s surprised she can’t hear it. He leans into the soft, gentle kiss for a few moments before Meg pulls away.

She giggles as he gazes at her with all the adoration in the world because, really, why _wouldn’t_ he? She’s one of the Queens of Los Santos and he’s just their hacker; he can’t think of a single sight in the world that could even begin to rival the one in front of him right now. And as she leans her head on his shoulder, he smiles and thanks whatever poor deity is forced to watch over Los Santos because he couldn’t have dreamt of a better life than the one he’s found with Meg’s crew.


	21. “It’s not heavy. I’m stronger than I look.” – Freewood - No specific AU

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one isn't set in any specific AU so you can imagine it in whichever one you'd like!

Gavin’s arms ached and his back felt like it was going to be permanently set into a curve, but the van barely had a quarter of the boxes left inside and he’d be damned if he gave up now. He groaned when he picked up a particularly large box and sure, maybe he should have left that one for Ryan, but he was stubborn _and_ determined so of course he was going to give it a bloody good try.

“Uh, Gavin?” Gavin was too busy hauling the box to turn around to face his boyfriend, but he grunted in acknowledgement to compromise. “Do you want me to carry that for you?”

“It’s not heavy,” he tried to insist, despite his voice sounding more like a strained wheeze than anything else. “I’m stronger than I look.”

His arms chose that moment to give out on him and the heavy box fell the short distance to the floor with a thud.

“Dammit.” Gavin muttered with a frown as he tried to pick the box back up again, but he was ushered out of the way by Ryan.

“I’ll take that as a yes, then.” He said, and even though he couldn’t see his boyfriend’s face, he _knew_ he was smirking. “The boxes labelled ‘bedroom’ are the lighter ones,” he added, and yep, Gavin could _hear_ the grin in his voice as he effortlessly lifted the box before walking into the house.

Gavin allowed himself a few moments to unashamedly stare at Ryan’s strong arms as he picked up the box, and at his whole body in general as he walked away, before smiling to himself and picking up an infinitely lighter box from the truck. Despite every bone in his body aching and his feet throbbing, he picked up another box and carried it into the house. Moving in was still so surreal for Gavin; he was moving into an actual house with his lovely boyfriend and he was literally moving boxes into their house.

After countless more trips between the house and the van, Gavin sighed with relief when he found the van to be completely empty.

“Hey, Ryan!” Gavin called out, and Ryan poked his head out the front door, a broad grin on his face.

“Hey, Gavin!” He replied with a wave.

“I think we’re finally done.” Gavin declared, folding his arms as pride began to stir within his chest. The feeling warmed Gavin’s whole body in a pleasant way, unlike the sticky Austin summer heat that left his t-shirt clinging to his skin.

“Nah,” Ryan said, walking over to where Gavin stood next to the delivery van. Gavin cocked his head and double-checked the van – which was definitely empty – before confusedly staring at his boyfriend. “There’s still one more thing.”

“But the truck’s empty, I don’t-” Gavin’ wasn’t even able to finish his sentence before he was letting out a yelp as he was swept off his feet and into Ryan’s arms. He wrapped his arms around Ryan’s neck and laughed as Ryan kissed him on the cheek before carrying him bridal style into the house. _Their_ house.


	22. “Watch your step.” – Ramwood – Fake AH Crew

After opening the huge sliding doors that lead into the warehouse, Geoff instantly breaks out into a coughing fit after accidentally inhaling a lungful of dust. He feels Ryan’s gaze linger on him for a few moments as he takes deep breaths, but then he steels himself and switches on his flashlight before pointing it into the darkness of the empty warehouse.

He flinches when the beam of light from his flashlight illuminates a cobweb that hangs a few inches in front of his face. However, instead of dwelling on it, he perseveres. He can deal with spiders, he can deal with dust, he can deal with shitty old warehouses that may or may not contain the boxes of weaponry he was promised by Hullum and Burns. But if he sees one single motherfucking snake… well, he won’t be held responsible for what happens.

As he and Ryan venture further into the warehouse, Ryan closes the door behind them and follows a few feet behind Geoff.

Dog-eared cardboard boxes and rusty shelves litter the cluttered warehouse but Geoff shrugs and walks forwards. The weapons are _apparently_ hidden in safe, metal containers under a grey tarp; he doesn’t need to bother with any of the other random junk in here.

And that just may be his downfall.

He’s barely half-way through the warehouse when his foot catches on a broken piece of shelf and he falls with a yelp. But then there’s a hand grabbing one of his own and another hand wrapping itself around his waist and the impeding thud on the cold floor he had been expecting doesn’t come.

“Watch your step,” Ryan says with a smirk as he holds Geoff there for a few moments. “You wouldn’t wanna fall.”

“My fucking hero.” Geoff retorts, rolling his eyes and frowning at Ryan. “Now pull me up, asshole.”

“Why of course, my fair damsel.” Ryan smoothly replies and pulls Geoff up in one fell swoop, but not before Geoff stumbles forwards with the momentum and wraps his arms around Ryan’s neck as to not fall on his face. Ryan’s hands instinctively fly to Geoff’s waist to keep him upright and Geoff curses himself when he feels his cheeks blush; he’s fucking lucky it’s too dark for Ryan to see that.

When Ryan doesn’t let go of him, Geoff curiously glances up at him and lets out a soft sigh when their eyes meet. Ryan’s gaze is soft but worried, “are you gonna be okay?” he asks, his tone full of concern.

“Yeah,” Geoff affirms, before muttering an annoyed “God, I fucking hate this,” under his breath.

“Sorry,” Ryan says apologetically as he makes to take a step back and allow Geoff some breathing room.

“No!” Geoff blurts out, “it’s not you, dude. It’s fucking Burnie and Matt. Who the fuck thinks it’s a good idea to leave cases of fucking guns in an unlocked warehouse by the docks where _anyone_ could wander in?!”

“I agree, it’s totally stupid of them,” Ryan declares in a much quieter voice than the one Geoff had used. “But how about we just check them over then we can get the fuck out of here, yeah?”

“Yeah.” Geoff says with a huff. “You’re right.”

“Alright, my liege,” Ryan smoothly remarks as he takes a swift step back from Geoff. He moves so fast that Geoff can barely comprehend what happens because Ryan takes Geoff’s hand and kisses it so softly that it barely feels like it even happened. But his heart is hammering in his chest and he’s too old to let opportunities like this pass, so he acts on a whim and hopes to high hell that Ryan doesn’t punch him in the face for this.

He – very carefully – takes a step forwards, grabs a fistful of Ryan’s t-shirt in one hand and crashes their lips together. He blames his clumsiness on the lack of lighting, but when Ryan begins to kiss back, the hand not holding the flashlight coming up to lightly cup Geoff’s jaw, he relaxes into the touch. Ryan’s lips are warm and he moves cautiously, as if he’s trying his very best to savour every moment of Geoff’s presence.

Only when Geoff slowly pulls back, panting slightly as he looks at Ryan and smirks. They both know that they’ll discuss this at length later; Ryan will keep Geoff sober and Geoff will get drunk off of Ryan’s kisses instead, confessing his feelings in-between soft touches and smiles. This has been a long time coming, and the confirmation settles a lot of tension that’s been eating away at Geoff’s insides for far too long.

“Lead the way, your majesty,” Ryan says with a smirk, readying his flashlight and gesturing to the darkness of the warehouse. Only their shining beams of light illuminate the area and Geoff smirks to himself as Ryan occasionally brushes against him ‘accidentally.’ And if they take longer to return to the base than Jack had expected, then, well, nobody comments on it (especially not when Geoff and Ryan catch each other’s gaze and disappear into Geoff’s office for the next few hours).


	23. “Call me when you get home.” & “I’ll drive you to the hospital.” – Risingwood - Fake AH Crew

The evening before a heist is always the worst.

Jon’s heart is permanently stuck in his throat, he’s constantly tapping something – be it his feet or fingers – and he can’t take his eyes off of Ryan for more than a few seconds. He knows that Ryan is the Vagabond and that he’s practically the devil of Los Santos, but it doesn’t quell his nerves. Despite the Fake AH Crew being the most organised and notorious in the city, things can still go wrong.

He can still lose Ryan.

Logically, he knows he won’t. But the possibility is still there so he staves off his fear by spending the evening at Ryan’s apartment and barely leaving his side. They spend the evening watching some show Jon didn’t pay attention to – preferring to curl up by Ryan’s side and soak in the presence of his boyfriend instead – and discussing the heist plan. He may not be an internationally wanted criminal and he may not fully understand the plan, but he likes to know what’s happening.

Now, however, as Ryan shrugs on his jacket and they both make their way down to the parking lot of the apartment block, Jon feels his nerves return at full force.

“Call me when you get home,” Jon pleads softly. He gently cups Ryan’s face in his hands and makes sure to not smudge the carefully applied face paint as he leans in for a quick kiss. He lingers for a few moments, savouring the contact before pulling away.

“I will,” Ryan replies, a smile on his face as he brushes a stray strand of Jon’s dark hair out of his face. “Don’t worry about me too much,” he adds, “I’m not an amateur, remember, I’m the Vagabond.”

“I know,” Jon says with a soft sigh. He’s glad that Ryan knows how to take care of himself, but at the same time he wishes he didn’t throw himself into the midst of danger so often. “Just stay safe, alright? I love you and I want you to come back in one piece.”

“I love you too.” Ryan smiles affectionately and heads over to his motorcycle before switching it on and listening as it roars to life. Meanwhile, Jon gives him a quick wave – which is readily returned – before sliding into his car and watching in the rear-view mirror as Ryan drives off. His heart hammers heavily in his chest but he pushes his worries aside as he drives back to his own apartment.

Only when he’s comfortably locked the door behind himself does he grab an ice-cold can of Red Bull and switch on the TV. Ryan warned him to get an early night but they both know that’s not going to happen; not when Ryan’s out in the darkness of the night, robbing a bank whilst armed to the teeth alongside the rest of the Fake AH Crew.

He turns on the news and pulls out his phone, deciding to distract himself with that instead. The television provides ample background noise and he makes sure to somewhat pay attention just in case the heist is livestreamed again. However, when an hour passes and nothing has been mentioned of the crew’s latest exploit, Jon returns his attention to his phone.

Another hour passes and all Jon’s done is scroll through barely a fraction of the thousands upon thousands of photos saved on his phone, check his Facebook four times, and read through a bunch of Ryan’s texts. He skips past most of them and lingers on the ones he’s most fond of; mostly the sappy “I love you” texts, but he laughs as he reads the sillier ones Ryan’s sent from his time with the crew. Some of those consist of the crew doing various incredulous things – Jon’s favourite is the one of Gavin, a horrified expression on his face and three knives embedded in the wall around his head – but some of them come from heists themselves.

He’s half way through his second cup of coffee when he hears a fist banging on the front door. Jon leaps off the couch and almost grabs the nearest weapon-like thing – which would be the lamp sat on the table next to him, and in hindsight he supposes that wouldn’t make a very good weapon – but then he hears the weak, raspy voice from behind the door.

“Jon?” The voice calls out, and Jon instantly puts a name to the voice.

He nearly knocks over several things in his sprint to the door, but when he pulls it open and sees the sight before him, nothing else matters. At first, all he can see is red. It’s smeared over Ryan’s face, flecks of it have dried in his hair, and it’s staining his grey t-shirt. Ryan’s got a loose fist holding his jacket and mask and Jon quickly relieves him of them, dropping them onto the kitchen counter as he turns to Ryan.

“I’ll drive you to the hospital.” He declares, pulling his keys from his pocket and trying in a vain attempt to get Ryan to drape an arm over Jon’s shoulders.

“No,” he breathlessly replies, “it’s too suspicious. Someone with my exact injuries and my exact clothing… I can’t risk it.”

“Please, Ryan, you need help.” Jon insists, but he doesn’t dare let his gaze linger for too long on Ryan’s side. His heart sinks to the pit of his stomach and he cringes when he catches a glimpse of blood trickling down from a small cut on Ryan’s neck. He’s never seen so much blood in one place. “Let me help you.”

Ryan barely manages to nod before Jon guides him to the couch, ignoring Ryan’s soft stream of apologies for getting blood on things. Only when Jon reminds him that stains aren’t their main priority does Ryan shut up and reel off a list of things Jon needs to help patch him up.

Sewing up the knife wound is easy, but it’s pulling out the three bullets – one from Ryan’s right bicep and two from his side – that Jon finds most difficult. Ryan winces and hisses with every movement Jon makes and it takes every ounce of Jon’s strength to not stop and worry over his injured lover.

When the wounds are finally patched up and the blood has finally been wiped away, Jon guides Ryan into the bathroom and sits him on the closed lid of the toilet. He wordlessly runs a flannel underneath warm water and gently cups Ryan’s jaw before carefully wiping away the remnants of the face paint. A combination of blood and sweat and tears had smeared the white, black, and red together in a terrifyingly dark mixture. It truly reflects the fact that Vagabond is the most feared figure in the city, but as Jon wipes away the paint, it leaves behind the pained expression of a man who has seen too much.

After the rest of the paint is gone and Jon has gently washed away the dried flecks of blood from Ryan’s hair, he pulls him to bed and wraps his arms around Ryan’s torso, carefully minding the bandages and bruises. He feels Ryan stiffen and Jon knows he feels guilty – he always does when he’s forced to let Jon see him as Vagabond, even if it’s only the aftermath of what he’s done as the infamous mercenary – so he nuzzles his face into the crook of Ryan’s neck and kisses his jaw.

“You’re safe now,” he proclaims into the silence of his bedroom. Ryan sniffs and curls into Jon’s arms, but doesn’t say anything. “I’ve got you.” He just squeezes his eyes shut and lets Jon envelope him with his soft words of reassurance and his warm embrace as he lets the dull ache of pain and soft warmth of Jon lull him to sleep.


	24. “I made this for you.” – Freewood – Mermaid AU

People typically claimed that once you lived with a beautiful view outside your house, you’d get used to it within the month. Picturesque cityscapes would become a source of too much noise, mountains straight out of a winter wonderland would annoyingly block too much sun, shimmering lakes would become an everyday occurrence. Ryan never believed them, though.

His beachfront house overlooked soft, golden sand and a vast, expansive ocean that rolled on for miles and miles until it met the soft blue of the sky. After waking up, he’d always step outside onto the balcony for a few minutes to soak in the gentle breeze and salty air. He’d lived there for a little over a year and the novelty still hadn’t worn off.

And once he was awake and refreshed, he’d pull on a t-shirt and pair of shorts before walking down the front of the beach to the fairly large cove which resided on the coastline. It was somewhat secluded from the rest of the beach as it was a little too far from the main expanse of  sand for anyone to bother investigating, but it caught Ryan’s eye on day one and he couldn’t help himself but take a look around.

The rocks had been placed so precisely that the pool was seemingly manmade, but Ryan was well aware that no human had created the cove.

As he stepped through the slim entrance to the cove, he smiled as he took in the view. In the year Ryan had lived there, he hadn’t seen a single change in the cove; all the rocks remained in the same place, shimmering tendrils of seaweed twisted and tumbled around in the water, and the sand shone as golden as ever.

Ryan walked over to his usual spot in the cove – at the shoreline where the cool, refreshing water met the damp sand – and he sat down and hugged his knees, letting the water lap at his bare feet.

As per usual, Ryan barely had to wait a couple of minutes before there was a disturbance in the water where it was just deep enough to not see below the surface. A shimmer of vibrant green broke the surface and before Ryan knew it, he was no longer alone.

The merman deftly darted through the water and effortlessly pulled himself to lie down by Ryan’s feet, emerald tail comfortably in the water, sun shining off it iridescently. Seasalt left his hair an awry mess and his forest green eyes matched the glimmering of his tail. He rested his chin in his hands, elbows in the sand, and grinned up at Ryan.

“Morning, Gavin,” Ryan greeted with a soft smile. He opened his mouth to ask Gavin how his night had been, but was cut off when Gavin held out a hand to cut him off.

“Wait, before we start,” he muttered excitedly, rolling onto his side to fiddle with a small hand-made utility belt he typically kept on him at all times. He opened up one of the dark green pouches and pulled out something Ryan couldn’t get a good look at. “I made this for you.” He held out a loosely curled fist and Ryan held out a hand to accept it, but wasn’t prepared for Gavin carefully tying something onto his wrist.

Ryan’s lips curled upwards in a fond smile when he brought his wrist closer to inspect what Gavin had just given him. It was a bracelet of some sort, made out of an unidentifiable green strap – no wider than a piece of string – with pale, peach-coloured shells interwoven into it. The shells were small and the strap wove in one end of each shell and out the other, keeping them close to Ryan’s wrist.

“The strap’s made out of a certain type of seaweed you only get _really really_ deep down in the ocean,” Gavin explained, pointing to the bracelet, “and the shells are donax variabilis, but you probably know them as coquina. And I know they’re pretty common, but if you look closely on the insides of the shells, they’ve got tiny flecks of gold inside them.”

“Gavin,” Ryan said, affectionately smiling in earnest at the merman. “It’s beautiful. Seriously, thank you so much.”

Now it was Gavin’s turn for his cheeks to flush as he stumbled over a messy mixture of “no problem” and “you’re welcome” which only prompted a giggle from Ryan who grinned at him. He held Gavin’s gaze for a couple of wonderful moments before shifting to shuffle forwards on his knees; from there, he cupped Gavin’s face in his hands and savoured the moment before ducking down and pressing a soft, warm kiss to Gavin’s lips.

The faint taste of salty water was familiar on Ryan’s lips, and he couldn’t help but fight back a smile as Gavin all but melted into the kiss, one arm leaning on the sand and the other reaching up to rest on Ryan’s shoulder. The kiss was short but soft and it left the couple grinning at one another as Ryan leaned away; however, he still left one hand – the hand where the bracelet resided – resting gently on top of Gavin’s.

As they sat there in the warmth of the sun and the cool of the water, they talked for hours about everything and nothing. And every now and then, Ryan would occasionally glance down at their intertwined fingers, his gaze would linger on the beautiful bracelet Gavin had made, and he’d give Gavin’s forehead a soft kiss. It was familiar, fond, and most of all; Ryan wouldn’t trade it for the world.


	25. 71. “No reason.” – Freewood – RT Office

The day had not been kind to Gavin, so the forceful slam of the front door was to be expected. Nevertheless, it didn’t keep Ryan from forming a plan in his head as he watched his boyfriend stomp around their house, snatch a beer from the fridge, throw himself down on the couch and jab at the TV remote.

It had probably started with Gavin falling face-first onto the floor instead of standing up out of bed like normal. Gavin had grumbled and rubbed at his sore forehead – Ryan had given it a kiss and claimed that it would be fixed – but had continued getting ready for work nonetheless. Then he spilt Red Bull down his trousers after being sat at his desk for less than five minutes; Geoff and Michael pranked him by handing him a letter full of glitter and he spent a good forty minutes – which would have been more like an hour and a half if Ryan hadn’t come over with the duster buster – cleaning it up; his footage for two of the three videos they recorded that day failed.

Overall, Ryan really didn’t blame Gavin for being grumpy.

But at the same time, Gavin _really_ didn’t seem to want to talk about it, so Ryan did what he knew best. He sat down next to Gavin on the couch and wrapped one arm around his shoulders and dropped his head to nuzzle at the crook of Gavin’s neck. The tension didn’t leave Gavin’s shoulders, but he did give Ryan a confused look when Ryan started littering soft kisses along the exposed skin above his shirt.

However, it was only when Ryan nudged Gavin to sit with his back to Ryan that he actually spoke up.

“What’re you doing?” He asked, confusion lacing his tone as he attempted to crane his neck around to look at his boyfriend. Ryan simply gave his cheek a gentle poke and Gavin took the not-so-subtle hint to stay in place.

“You’re tense,” Ryan observed, resting his hands on Gavin’s shoulders and giving them a soft squeeze. He had shifted on the couch so he was knelt behind Gavin and was ready to put his plan into action. “So I’m helping you loosen up.”

“Why?” Gavin queried.

“No reason.” Ryan replied truthfully, leaning forward to leave a soft kiss on the nape of Gavin’s neck. It sent a slight shiver down Gavin’s spine and Ryan smiled affectionately at his boyfriend.

“Seriously?”

“Do I need a reason to give my boyfriend a massage?” Ryan asked, raising one eyebrow even though Gavin couldn’t see it. However, the amused huff from Gavin told Ryan that he’d _known_ which exact expression Ryan was pulling.

“Nah, I s’pose not.” Gavin replied with a shrug. Ryan took that as permission to begin, and he slowly dragged Gavin’s shirt up and over his head before gently guiding him to lay face-first on the couch. Instead of worrying about the day or concerning himself about what Ryan was doing, Gavin allowed himself to sigh softly when Ryan’s warm hands came into contact with the centre of his back and gradually worked their way across his body.

Ryan began slowly, smoothing his hands over Gavin’s bare back and occasionally pressing down on the areas he knew he’d have to work on – Gavin would hiss slightly when Ryan’s fingers found a particularly tense area. And as he gradually transitioned from gentle rubbing to soothing and relieving movements with increased pressure which sought and worked out the tensest of knots, Gavin found himself relaxing under the magical hands of his loving boyfriend.

**Author's Note:**

> These are all saved on the same word document on my computer and the document is just over 22,000 words so please let me know if I've missed tags (because I really don't want to have to re-read this whole thing again).
> 
> Come talk to me on tumblr at [savingprivatesimmons](http://savingprivatesimmons.tumblr.com/)!!


End file.
